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#fact of the matter is who am i gonna force to get it.

yanderenightmare · 3 months

Text

TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….”

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way.

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.”

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had.

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

3K notes · View notes

lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— divorce child ⟢

you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?

★ FEATURING; vernon x producer!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 9.2k words

★ TAGS; exes to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; 3/4 stories in the series are now up <3 i hope you like this bc i really just wanted an excuse to write something fluffy and adorable with vernon.... he's got me in my feels these past few days fr. small heads up that this fic also features a bunch of characters from again and again, the mingyu installment of the series. this story takes place a couple years after that fic, but you don't necessarily have to read that part to get the events in this one :3c

★ P.S.; this was not proofread as usual lol if you spot any mistakes, do me a favor and pretend they don't exist !

this is part of the doting on you! series.

★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, clothed sex, wearing ur bf's clothes kink(?), unprotected sex, body worship, praise kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is just so sweet okay

★ SVT TAGLIST; @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @cheolhub - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jinniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @jkbabiey - @featmia ★ SERIES TAGLIST; @exactlygreatcoffee - @gyusbabydoll - @jeonwonhi - @ti--red

“You sure you don’t need me to pitch in for this month’s check-up? I can always wire you some cash, you know.”

As you zip the pet carrier shut, you roll your eyes despite the fact that Vernon can’t exactly see your expression. Your phone’s sitting all the way on the coffee table but you were so preoccupied with wrestling your cat, Milana into the bag that you couldn’t exactly hold it like a normal person would.

“I’m good. You already covered for me last time, remember?” You remind him before taking the call off loudspeaker before pressing your phone to your ear. “I just got her inside the carrier. Might have to patch up a few scratches before we leave though.”

Vernon laughs. “She always hates going to the vet. It’s nothing too bad, right?”

“I’ve handled worse,” you snort before grabbing a couple of band-aids you keep around various corners of the house for this scenario specifically. “How about you? I thought I remembered Jihoon mentioning that today’s gonna be shut-in day. You know, that time of the month when you guys lock yourselves inside the studio to brainstorm lyrics together. Didn’t think you’d have the time for a phone call.”

“I always have time for a phone call when Milana’s going to the vet,” he says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture the warm smile on his face. The thought is enough to make your chest flutter, but you push the feeling down before it can completely come to the surface. “But you are right about shut-in day though. I might have to go in a few, so if there’s anything you need, you better tell me right now or forever hold your peace.”

“Nah. I told you, we’re good,” you insist with an eyeroll before placing band-aids on the scratches that your cat affectionately left all over your arms. “I’ll drop by the company later to drop off a mix that Jihoon asked me to mess around with. But if it’s shut-in day, I doubt we’ll get to see you.”

“Hmm. I can hide his Coke Zero stash outside so he’ll be forced to go out and get it?”

“Now that’s just downright evil.”

“It is. Anyway, aren’t you going to be late?”

“I already am, but Milana’s vet adores her, remember?”

“Nari adores everyone’s pets. Mingyu-hyung told me so.”

“Shush. You talk like our baby isn’t special,” you huff as you sling the strap of the pet carrier across your shoulder. “We’ll head out now. Thanks for checking in, Vernon.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, take care on the way.”

You end the call with your heart racing inside your chest. It’s not the phone call with your ex-boyfriend that flusters you, per-se. You work in the same agency, for god’s sake. Meaning, you’d be in deep shit if talking to him throws you off just because your relationship has already come to an end.

But whenever you jokingly refer to Milana as ‘our’ baby whenever you talk to him, it feels like you’re encroaching on something you’ve already lost a long time ago.

Your listlessness lasts until you pull up by the parking lot. Whether Milana’s staying at yours or at Vernon’s, this pet clinic at the heart of Seoul has always been your go-to. The fact that the attending veterinarian is Mingyu’s girlfriend does wonders to your final bills—she loves giving discounts to regulars and acquaintances—and you like to think you’ve found a friend in her ever since.

The automatic doors slide open when you walk in—Milana’s bag still slung over your shoulder. Chae, the receptionist, flashes you a bright smile before you notice the familiar golden retriever lying in front of the front desk. Old eyes flicker up to you for a moment before his tail twitches once or twice to signal his excitement.

“Good morning, Chae. Good morning, Namja,” you coo before crouching down to pet his head. “Is Nari waiting for me? Sorry for the hold up. It was a bit tough getting this one inside her bag.”

Chae lets out a soft laugh as she types away behind her computer. “Really? Vernon always gushes about how much of a sweetheart she is whenever it’s his turn to bring her in.”

You don’t know whether you should be surprised or embarrassed that Chae knows—or at least has an inkling—of your little arrangement with Vernon. When the two of you were still together, you always brought Milana in at the same time, but now you’re taking turns in bringing your little divorce child to the vet.

But hey, at least you’re still upholding your parental responsibilities, right?

“Of course he does,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “He knows better than anyone that getting Lana inside the bag is a nightmare. This one’s already her third this year. I was thinking of investing in a cage-type carrier instead but Vernon said it was like we’re sending her to prison.”

Chae sighs. “Men. Always so dramatic. Oh, but Doctor Nari’s waiting for you inside.” The receptionist glances at you curiously before you start taking Milana out of the bag so Chae could measure her weight.

It’s a bit of a challenge, handing your full-grown Maine Coon over to Chae, but despite the fact that she thrashes all around before vet visits, Milana has always been tame whenever she’s at the clinic. You manage to settle inside Nari’s office once your cat’s vitals have been measured and her vet is more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Well, if it isn’t Milana and her single mother,” she chuckles. “You here for routine check-ups? Where’s the father, though?”

You roll your eyes—fully aware that she’s only teasing. “Do you ask Vernon where’s the mother when he’s the one who brings her here?”

“Maybe.” Nari smiles before getting up from her desk and receiving your big cat into her arms. “Oh. She’s gotten heavier since the last time she came in.”

“Yeah, her father has been spoiling her with too much catnip. I only found out last week,” you sigh as you settle into one of the seats adjacent to the one across Nari’s desk. “But she’s been hairballing a lot recently. She doesn’t usually groom as much as she does now. Should I be concerned?”

She hums for a moment as she puts on her stethoscope—checking Milana’s heartbeat while her free hand examines your cat’s light brown coat. “Doesn’t look like she has any fleas or mites hanging around, but I can always do a scrape for you if you want the definitive results on paper. Though the excessive grooming could also be caused by stress.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stress?”

Nari nods before hanging her steth around her neck once more, stroking Milana’s fur with calm affection. “Cats are more easily agitated than dogs. Lots of things can stress them out. Loud music, vacuum cleaners, thunderstorms… Actually, even a switch-up in their pet parent’s schedules is grounds for stress.”

You can only watch in silence as Nari scratches behind Milana’s ears, making your cat purr like a kitten despite the fact that her long limbs are spilling out of her vet’s arms. But regardless of how adorable she looks, Nari’s words got you thinking.

In the tail-end of the breakup, it was a topic that was brought up over and over: who gets to keep Milana? You both split half and half with expenses after the two of you adopted her at a nearby shelter. Not to mention, you both loved her in equal measure, so it was difficult to come to a decision that the two of you could soundlessly agree on. In the end, you settled with the compromise of taking turns watching over Milana because neither of you could stand not being able to see her for too long.

It’s been about three months since you and Vernon call it quits and three months since you’ve agreed on ‘splitting custody’. She stays with you on weekdays and with him on weekends—along with some exceptions for when one party isn’t available. It was also agreed that you’ll take turns bringing her to the vet every month to make sure nothing is amiss with her health.

But when you planned on paying Nari a visit today, you didn’t expect to find out that the fluctuating schedule you and Vernon made a deal out of could be a possible stressor for your cat.

“I think you should just keep her.” Nari suggests, a hint of concern creeping on her face. “You could always tell Vernon to visit Milana whenever he wants to, right? The back-and-forth travel is definitely going to take a toll on this one. Also, cats are smarter than you think. I’m sure she’s already sensed something’s off with her parents a long time ago.”

Milana heaves a deep sigh as if she understood every single word her vet just said and you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at your gut. You thought that this was the best decision you could make for both yours and Vernon’s sanity, but you completely forgot to take Milana’s well-being into account. You can almost hear Nari silently judging you, but you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

“We’ll… We’ll talk about it,” you reassure, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But…she’s okay, right? No serious health complications or anything?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re literally the most responsible cat owner I’ve ever met. No one ever bothers to bring their pets in unless the situation’s already too severe to handle. So you’re good. Milana’s perfectly healthy. Just a little…sad, maybe.”

“Why would she be sad?”

Nari stares at you like you just asked something ridiculous, but thankfully she doesn’t dish out any half-assed remarks about it—opting to settle Milana back onto a nearby examination table to do a couple more physical exams.

“Have I ever told you that me and Gyu used to be in a similar situation in the past?”

You stare at Nari with a bewildered look while her gaze never strays too far from her patient. She even coos out little remarks of praise whenever Milana behaves. How can someone who’s this focused drop such a question in the middle of work?

“Vernon told me you guys split up and got back together after almost a year,” you tell her dryly, not liking the fact that you admitted your ex-boyfriend is a big gossip, but you don’t see any point in hiding the fact that you knew. “What brought it up?”

Nari’s lips twitch into a firm smile before she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “I just think that…you and Vernon? You’re kind of on the same boat we were in before we reconciled. It’s either the two of you are too stubborn or too afraid to see it for what it is.”

Too afraid to…?

“What do you mean?” you ask. “It’s best that we split up, you know? Relationships between co-workers can get ugly really quickly if we forget to be professional. I don’t want us to stop doing the things we love just because of some work-related spat.”

“Then the two of you should just learn how to segregate work from play,” Nari insists before smoothing her gloved hands across Milana’s long torso. “I’m not trying to meddle or anything, okay? It’s just that there’s virtually no reason for you to not get back together. You’re still taking care of Milana together, still checking up on each other, still working together—”

“There it is. That’s the reason why we can’t be together, Nari,” you groan at her stubbornness. “We’re still working together.”

She huffs. “Is there a clause in your company’s contract that prohibits romantic relationships among talents and staff?”

“I’ve never read the fine print, but I’m pretty sure there’s something along those lines somewhere in there.”

“Oh. Well, who cares? Milana needs a loving home where her parents can take care of her at the same time.” Nari then leans down to cup her face in her hands. “Isn’t that right? You need both of them to look after you, hm?”

“So you’re suggesting that Vernon and I should just get back together for Milana’s sake?” you ask half-jokingly and to your surprise, Nari nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“Well, I won’t make any assumptions by saying that you’re still in love with him, since you’re the only one who can say that for sure. But come on, do it for the not-so-little baby. You can just learn to love each other again in the process!”

You can hardly believe your ears. In the quick stories that Vernon shared about Mingyu’s girlfriend, you never expected her to be this carefree about the matters of the heart. It must’ve been her six-foot boyfriend’s bubbly personality rubbing off on her.

“Right,” you say with a shallow sigh. “Pray tell, why’d you and Mingyu split up in the first place?”

Nari’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if deep in thought as Milana nibbles playfully at one of her latex-covered fingers. The silence presses on for a few more seconds before she turns to you with a mellowed out expression.

“I thought we weren’t going to work because of how different our jobs are,” she admonishes quietly, lips spread into a thin smile. “But after being an idiot for almost six months, I realized that our jobs don’t matter. I love him. I don’t think I really stopped. Don’t think I’ll ever stop, actually.

“That’s why I was so surprised when I found out you and Vernon broke up three months ago!” Nari continues with a disgruntled look on her face. “The two of you spend so much time in the studio and at your apartment. You even have a child together!” She then gestures dramatically over to Milana. “So forgive me if it doesn’t make sense to me, why the two of you broke up. But won’t you reconsider it? For Milana?”

You shake your head. “Nari, some relationships just aren’t meant to work out. Just because you and Mingyu managed to make good on that second chance, doesn’t mean it’ll be the same with us. We’ve already…settled with what we have right now.”

“What, the endless pining and using the poor cat as an excuse to see each other?” She huffs again and, god, she reminds you so much of Mingyu now it’s actually funny. “Come on, sweetie. I’ve been in your place before, so I know perfectly well. Gosh, this must be how Seungkwan felt when I was still getting my shit together.”

Unsolicited mention of Seungkwan aside, you just don’t see any reason to pursue what Nari is convincing you to do. Nothing really changed after you and Vernon broke up. That’s one of the things you like about him—how easy it is to fall back into a comfortable friendship despite the history you shared.

But you aren’t going to deny the fact that it kind of sucks that you can’t kiss him anymore. Can’t lean into his chair in the studio to pull him into a hug. Can’t tell him you still love him even if…

Oh.

Fuck. You still love him?!

“Fine, fine. Since I have a couple more patients on the waitlist, I’m gonna let you off the hook. For now,” Nari grumbles before handing Milana back to you and taking a seat behind her desk. “Just stick to her usual vitamins and diet and she should be fine until the next visit. But if you want the stress problem to go away…”

“Nari,” you groan. “I’m not getting back together with him.”

“Hey, that is not what I was saying,” Nari rebuts with her hands up in surrender. “I was gonna suggest that you just lessen her traveling! Maine Coons are usually really active, but Milana’s a bit of a…homebody, isn’t she? Might not like all that moving around between yours and Vernon’s apartments.”

“But she’s literally with me five days a week. Won’t she have plenty of rest time then?”

“Oh, who am I kidding? Just get back together soon, pretty please?”

Yep. Mingyu’s definitely rubbed off on her.

When you get home later in the afternoon, Milana is quick to slink off to her usual spot behind the sofa to take a nap while you make a beeline for the kitchen.

It’s always been a post vet visit ritual to get take out to eat at home—even when you and Vernon were still together. However, you opted against the practice for now because not only does it remind you of your ex, but eating all alone in your apartment will only give you more leeway to think about the things Nari told you earlier today.

If you make your own food like you are now, your mind is at least preoccupied enough that you don’t have enough thinking room to even wonder if Vernon even wants you back.

By the time the sun sets, Milana is still dozing behind the couch and you have a potful of pasta noodles and enough red sauce to last you five days. Another thing that you overlooked whenever you cook inside the house is that you almost always cook enough servings to feed two people. Whether subconsciously or not, you can’t bring yourself to hate how your habits are still attuned to the lifestyle you had three months ago.

Before you and Vernon broke up.

“Work,” you mutter to yourself as you dump some pasta and sauce into a bowl. “If I work, I won’t think about him anymore.”

Not-so wise words from a not-so wise person because newsflash: the time that you and your ex spent in your studio is leagues more than the time you spent together in the bedroom. Vernon has already cleared out his leftover gear from your home office, but memories aren’t something he can pack up and leave with so easily.

You recall quiet afternoons where you’d bounce ideas about their group’s next song off each other—sometimes with Jihoon and Seungcheol connected to a Discord call, but more often in the privacy of each other’s company.

There were also gloomy days where it rained all day long. Milana would curl up on Vernon’s lap while he played around with the software on your computer—sometimes using the weird sounds she makes as samples to add into the mix along with the soft drizzle pattering against the windowpane.

But it’s even harder to just forget about all the times the two of you came together intimately within the soundproof walls. You can’t even count how many times Vernon has eaten you out while you’re perched on top of your work desk—one hand muffling your moans despite the fact that no one outside the studio can ever hope to hear you. The world is none the wiser when Vernon pulls you onto his lap, bouncing you on his length until he’s spilling into you with gratuitous release.

In the present, there you are in the ear-splitting silence of your studio—the music software your ex bought for you ages ago seemingly glaring at you for spacing out again. You know you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself since it’s easier to come up with the perfect beats when you’ve got a rough draft of the lyrics in front of you—something that Jihoon and Vernon are busy getting done today.

But still. You can’t help the frustration because you’ve been functioning normally since the breakup. Sitting in the studio didn’t usually lead to you reminiscing about the countless hours you and Vernon spent here together. Making dinner never made you miss having someone to eat across from you at the dining table.

If only Nari didn’t breathe a word about your ex-boyfriend and all the reasons why you should just get back together. Maybe you would’ve remained rational. Maybe you wouldn’t have started considering things that are beyond your control.

Maybe you wouldn’t be hoping so badly for something to happen.

You try to distract yourself by listening to and reviewing the mix you’re supposed to hand over to Jihoon today. The visit you planned on making to the company was canceled since neither he nor Vernon were answering their phones, which usually means they’re taking shut-in day seriously for once.

The track continues to stream through the speakers as you munch on your dinner, filling the room with a quiet melody that would make a great ballad once the lyrics are in place. But no matter how good Jihoon’s music is, no matter how delicious your cooking can be, it isn’t enough to quell the thoughts that have been suffocating you all day.

You still…love Vernon.

If you didn’t, your apartment wouldn’t feel as lonely as it does. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have to feel so awkward whenever you bring Milana to the vet all alone.

But part of you insists that you’re just being carried away by the ideas that Nari planted in your head. You’ve been doing fine on your own for the past three months. How is today any different?

Your senseless overthinking gets worse before it gets better.

The next thing you know, you’re scrolling through your gallery, unearthing pictures whose existence you’ve long forgotten about. You’ve spent almost three years with Vernon—two years officially before getting Milana on your second anniversary. Tons of photos were snapped, countless memories created.

You could’ve snapped more photos, could’ve made more memories if only you hadn’t split up. The fact that (what should’ve been) your third anniversary passed a few weeks ago, stings more than it’s supposed to. That day, Vernon jokingly asked if you wanted to celebrate by your usual spot in the park a few neighborhoods away and you jokingly rejected his offer by saying you had a sitcom to catch up on.

Part of you wishes you accepted the invitation. Maybe the joke could’ve been subverted into something real, and maybe you could’ve been back in his arms by now.

That night, you go to bed with a mild headache and a million thoughts racing through your mind. It isn’t Jihoon’s sad, mellow mix that drones on and on in your head, but a single question that you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get a proper answer to.

How can you still love someone you were so sure that you didn’t anymore?

Come morning, you wake up with a heart that’s heavier than last night and the glaring realization that Milana is missing.

Panicking isn’t usually your first instinct when it comes to your cat. Milana is fairly easy to spot because she’s built more massive than your regular neighborhood felines. But when you’ve already scoured the vicinity for your beloved Maine Coon, it becomes clearer and clearer that she’s nowhere to be found.

You ask around with your neighbors—fairly certain that they know what Milana looks like since she slinks out of the house every now and again. What makes this particular situation worrisome is that she hasn’t come bolting back inside your apartment when you brought out the goddamn catnip. So, when your neighbors begrudgingly tell you that, no, they haven’t seen an oversized house cat prancing around the area, you don’t know what to do.

“Wait, come again?”

“She’s missing, Nari,” you whine into your cell as you nervously bite down on your nails. “I… I was so sure that I locked everything last night, but when I woke up, the front door was wide open and Milana’s just gone.”

Your friend curses at the other end of the line and from the concerned voices in the background, you figure that you must’ve called at a busy time in the clinic.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you tell her while choking down a sob. “Just…give me a ring if ever you or Chae see her around the clinic.”

“It’s not a bother at all! I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nari sighs. “I’ll keep in touch. Oh, but it’s also worth considering that cats like familiar places. If you’re going to look for her, you can start with that.”

“Alright, thank you, Nari.”

After hanging up on her, you bury your face in the palms of your hands—sticky tears matting your skin as you breathe in sharply. You’ve never had to deal with a lost pet before. How the hell are you supposed to find Milana in a city that’s as big as Seoul?

You consider calling the police to file a report, but you’re not sure if pet cats even count for a missing person’s case. They wouldn’t be of any help if it didn’t. The only thing you can do right now is go outside and look for her yourself.

You’re quick to pull on an old sweatshirt you once nabbed from Jihoon before heading out—simultaneously texting every one of your friends about the situation as you scout further out of your neighborhood. Hell, you even contacted the animal shelter you and Vernon adopted Milana from out of sheer desperation.

Thankfully, a handful of them responded right away with a promise that they’ll keep a close eye out for any Maine Coons that surely don’t belong in their areas.

But no matter where you look, you always end up back to square one. It doesn’t help that Milana doesn’t usually wander too far from your apartment, which means that you have no clue where she could’ve possibly gone.

Nari mentioned that cats like familiar places, but the only places that are remotely familiar to Milana are yours and Vernon’s apartments.

Yours and Vernon’s…

You quickly bolt back to your place—scrambling to your car before fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. A few failed attempts and very loud cursing later, you manage to rev the engine to life. The next thing you know, you’re pulling into the street with an urgency that’s barely beating the speed limit.

Given that it’s still a weekend, you don’t have to come into work, which means that you have no idea what the boys’ schedule looks like right now. You’re not even sure if Vernon is in the same city, but you’d rather risk the off-chance that he isn’t in Seoul than do nothing.

You try your best to keep an eye on the road all while dialing up your ex-boyfriend as well as doing your best to obey every Korean traffic law there is. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you would’ve crashed into an SUV that’s idling by a red light if you hadn’t angrily brought down your foot on the brakes. Why the hell isn’t he answering?!

By the time you’ve made it to the street that led to his apartment complex, you’re already shaking with anxiousness. Dozens of uncertainties flit into your mind a million miles per minute. What if he doesn’t know where she is? What if he gets mad at you for losing Milana? Hell, what if he isn’t even here?

Shoving down all these biting questions, you park haphazardly across the street, locking your car behind you as you jog up to the steps that lead to the entrance. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that the receptionist at the counter still recognizes you—even going as far as flashing you a kind smile and informing you that Vernon is just upstairs. You wordlessly thank her for the tip before jamming a thumb on the elevator buttons.

You tap your foot impatiently across the marble tiles. Why the hell did Vernon choose to live in a place where you have to use elevators just to get home? Your apartment’s much more accessible especially in times like this when you feel like you’re going to explode with how fucking nervous you are—

The elevator dings when it arrives at the ground floor, making your nerves jump back into focus. You’re completely ready to brush past whoever’s getting out so you can come up to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment faster, but when you meet said ex-boyfriend’s surprised gaze at the mouth of the elevator, your prior urgency comes into a screeching halt.

He’s dressed like he usually is on lazy days—ugly checkered pajama pants, a tour shirt from some Western band that he probably hasn’t listened to a day in his life, and that perpetual bedhead he always sports whenever he just rolled out of bed.

God, he looks so good. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just about to head out and grab breakfast… Uh, make that brunch. Did you need something?”

You don’t even dare to dawdle. “Is Milana with you?”

Vernon cranes his head in confusion and the look makes your heart sink like a stone. “Last I recall, you’re the one who brought her to and from the vet yesterday. Aren’t we missing a couple of chapters here or…?”

You meant to explain the situation as concisely as you possibly can to him. Vernon’s always been an easy going guy. You’re sure that he won’t resent you for it when he finds out that you lost the daughter you’ve been sharing custody over. Even if some irrational part of your brain insists that he will.

But instead of coherent words, all that comes out of your mouth is a choked up sob.

The curve between Vernon’s neck and shoulder is as comfortable as you recall as you press your face against the crook of it—letting the tears run from your eyes and across his pale skin. You vaguely feel him wrap a protective arm around your frame while his free hand smooths down your hair and it makes you wonder why he’s patient enough to let you cry in his arms despite not having explained what the hell even happened yet.

He’s thoughtful enough to bring you to a more secluded corner of the lobby, calming you down by rubbing soothing shapes on your back with his hand and never letting you stray too far from his embrace. It helps that his low voice is there to keep you grounded—telling you that everything’s going to be fine and you just have to breathe, love.

It works after a few minutes and Vernon only lets you let go when he’s sure you’re not in danger of suffocating on your own tears anymore.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmurs, taking your hand in his. A small gesture that you’re too selfish to resist. “Is it about Lana?”

You nod weakly. “She’s…gone, Vernon. I have no idea where she went, but she’s gone.”

He hums in understanding and surprisingly enough, the understanding glint in his eyes never wavers. It’s a bit off-putting since you expected him to at least be shocked by the news, but it’s almost like he’s used to hearing that your pet cat just ran away.

“Right. I forgot to tell you about this new habit of hers.” He chuckles with an apologetic smile before one of his hands reaches up to wipe the tears off your cheeks. The close proximity has heat rising to your face, but you’re too stunned to react.

“I read somewhere that it’s good for Maine Coons to wander around to stretch out their limbs. Nari also told me last month that Lana could use the exercise, so whenever she comes over to mine, I let her out without supervision. She eventually finds her way to the lobby and just waits for me to come back if I’m ever running a little late.”

You listen to every word of Vernon’s explanation with a look of disbelief. All this time, you were worried sick about how he’ll react to the news that you lost your cat, but he’s been letting her go out and about when it’s his turn to look after her?

“Then where is she now?” you ask—not bothering to pick a fight with him now of all times.

Vernon hums for a moment as if considering the options and you don’t miss how his fingers tighten around yours when he gives you an answer.

“I might have a good idea.”

When Vernon suggested for you to head to the park just a few minutes away from your apartment as he climbed into the passenger seat, you merely scowled at him. “Milana is afraid of all the dogs that go for walks there. The only dog she isn’t scared of is Namja.”

“Just trust me,” he insists as you start the car. “Better we look there and find nothing than not look when there turns out to be something.”

His logic isn’t so flawed after all when he briskly leads you down a familiar walkway to an even more familiar location. It’s a small hill that’s got a perfect view of the river nearby. The upslope is lined with plum blossom trees that bloom even more vibrantly in spring and it just so happens that one of those trees is dubbed as yours and Vernon’s usual spot.

It’s where you and him usually hang out when the air in the studio has gotten a bit too stale to bring forth any sort of output. The outdoors can offer all sorts of inspiration when it comes to writing and producing songs and it’s common practice to make the trip to the usual spot when either of you are suffering from a nasty bout of creativity block.

And under the shade of the tree in the said usual spot is none other than Milana—curled up in deep slumber as plum blossom petals drift onto her pale brown fur.

You don’t even feel bad for rudely disturbing her from her comfortable nap, immediately pulling her into an abrupt embrace as you feel the tears welling in your eyes again. Milana lets out a strangled meow—claws straining against your skin with a threat of attack if you don’t knock it off. But you can’t bring yourself to care. You’d gladly use up all the band-aids in the world after she scratches you up if it means you can get to hug her for a few seconds more.

“There she is. All cozy at that.”

Vernon’s smooth voice startles you out of your relief—so overwhelmed to see your cat again that you almost forgot that you had company.

“I told you she’d be here,” he laughs before reaching out to pet her head. “You got us worried though. Don’t go wandering too far, okay, Lana? You scared your mom shitless, you know?”

Milana responds with a disgruntled noise but you can feel her claws retract nonetheless. Damn Vernon and the fact that he’s obviously the favorite parent…

She seems considerably happier when you deposit her into her father’s arms—nuzzling his chest with a satisfied purr as you and Vernon start to descend the hill.

But as he showers her with affection, you can’t help but sneak brief glances in your ex-boyfriend’s direction. Vernon has always been easy on the eyes. That’s one of the reasons you were drawn to him in the first place. But whenever you see him like this—laughing goofily as he teases Milana, the high of his cheekbones dusted red with a shower of plum blossoms gliding all over…

The gods are cruel to think you could ever put up a fight.

When Vernon comes over to bring Milana back to your apartment, you don’t expect him to stay for too long. He mentioned on the way that yesterday’s shut-in session was a complete success and that they’ve got all their work cut out for them. All they need is a green light from the higher-ups before Jihoon can start handing the song samples to the company’s usual team of producers—a team that just happens to include you.

So yeah, you don’t expect Vernon to linger because he’s obviously got a lot on his plate. The man hasn’t even had breakfast or brunch or whatever. So when he surprisingly decides to stay and rummages through your fridge for the pasta noodles and red sauce you’ve been saving for tonight, it’s like you never broke up with him at all.

The sight is almost too familiar for you to bear.

Vernon sitting on the kitchen counter, helping himself to some day-old pasta as his long legs dangled over the edge. Milana watching his feet sway around with keen eyes as she attempts to swipe at them with her claws. Not to mention you, who’s staring at the two of them like they’re the most precious things in the world.

“Hey, this is really good,” Vernon compliments with half his mouth stuffed with noodles. “You’re using that one Italian tomato sauce that I like, right? Man, I missed this a lot.”

You will yourself to snap out of whatever trance his presence has got you in before walking closer to him with a soft laugh. You lean across the counter, grabbing a fork from the drawer where you keep your silverware to help yourself to some of the pasta that he haphazardly tossed into the microwave.

“It could’ve been better if you heated the noodles properly in boiling water.” You shake your head. “Then again, you’ve always been impatient when it comes to food.”

“Not as impatient as Seokmin-hyung,” he snickers. “One time when we were still staying back in the dorms, Mingyu-hyung just put the lasagna in the oven but Seokmin-hyung was already yelling about when it’ll be ready to eat. Actually, he always does that even if one of us just pops something in the microwave.”

You shake your head, recalling the words of Nari’s receptionist, Chae. “Men. Always so dramatic.”

Vernon snickers in agreement. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

You fall into conversation with him so easily, it’s almost unreal. When Vernon finishes his food, the two of you eventually migrate to the living room—catching up with each other in a way that you don’t really have the time to whenever he comes over to pick up Milana from your apartment in the past.

Speaking of Milana, your cat acts as a barrier of sorts between you and Vernon, lying comfortably in the space that the two of you left unfilled. Cuddling up to him on the couch used to be so easy, it’s almost second nature, but now that you’re nothing but co-workers that are friends at best, you’ve got a lot more reservations than you used to have.

“By the way, I’ve been looking everywhere for that sweatshirt,” he muses before pointing at the graphic crewneck you’re wearing. “I thought I lost it in the laundry or that Seungkwan might’ve nabbed it when he came over to my place.”

“Why is he your first suspect?” you snort. “Also, what are you talking about? This is Jihoon’s.”

Vernon blinks at you, a little confused. “No, that’s mine. Jihoon-hyung must’ve borrowed it from me and let you borrow it after. When did you even get it from him?”

“Um. About a month ago?”

“That explains it then.”

You roll your eyes. “Look, if you want your sweatshirt back, I can just give it to you.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” he insists, one hand drifting onto Milana’s head so he can scratch her ears. “You’ve always looked good in my clothes anyway.”

Silence fills the room almost uncomfortably at how easy it is for him to admit that. The sudden shift in the atmosphere occurs to Vernon a little late and the smile on his face falls when he realizes what he just said.

“Oh, I didn’t… I mean—”

“It’s— It’s okay,” you interject meekly, managing a shy smile as you tug on the sleeves of your—his—sweatshirt. “I always liked wearing your clothes too.”

You’re perfectly aware that you should know how to hold yourself accountable for the things you say. That goes the same for Vernon. So when the two of you willingly let the other hear such controversial things that co-workers-slash-friends probably shouldn’t be saying to each other, you’re not sure what to make of the situation.

Are you reading him wrong? Or is he actually reciprocating your misplaced longing, no matter how subtle? It’s always been hard to tell with Vernon, who’s never straightforward with what he wants to communicate. Always trusting that you would understand the nuance of his every action, his every word, when all they do is make your head spin.

The sight is perfectly domestic—lounging comfortably on the sofa after a good meal, both of your feet kicked up on the coffee table, and your big baby daughter purring quietly from where she lies between the two of you.

But even if three months doesn’t seem like a whole lot, it’s enough time for some…due changes to eventually set.

“You know…” Vernon starts, sucking in a deep breath almost like he’s nervous.

“Do I know what?”

His eyes flicker over to the ceiling as if praying for some sort of deliverance before forcing himself to meet your gaze again. There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t parse right away, and you wonder if you can ever understand what it is.

“I… I still listen to that old mixtape you gave me. Do you remember? The one you gave to me when we first met?” he murmurs quietly, bringing his hands onto his lap so he can twiddle with his thumbs. “Before we have to come up on stage and I start feeling nervous, I just listen to a softcopy of that mixtape on my phone. I still do now.”

That mixtape… He still has that? Moreover, he managed to save a softcopy and downloaded it onto his phone? You would’ve asked him how on earth he managed to do that, if you weren’t so startled about his sudden revelation.

“Your voice always gives me strength. Even when we weren’t together yet—even if we’re not together anymore.” Vernon purses his lips, a sad look eclipsing the sincerity in his eyes as he strokes Milana’s fur thoughtfully. “So I’m really sorry if you think I’m overstaying my welcome today. I definitely am. But I just— I just wanted to be selfish for once.I wanted to spend a little more time with you because I know you’ll go back to distancing yourself from me once I leave.”

When he turns to face you, you know it’s the real deal. There’s a spark of determination in his eyes that scares you a little—like he’s about to say something you’re not ready to hear yet regardless of how badly you want to.

But before he can get a chance to utter the words, your phone starts ringing on the coffee table. You’ve never swooped in to answer a call so quickly in your life.

“Hello, what’s up?” You nearly cringe at how bubbly your voice sounds as you get up from the couch.

“Hey, have you found Milana?” Nari’s voice flows into your ear, genuine concern lacing each word. “I asked Mingyu to look around with Namja, but no dice. I could contact some other friends if you—”

“It’s okay, Nari,” you interject, fingers drumming across your thigh. “We already found her.”

Your friend makes a curious noise. “Who’s we?”

You nearly balk when Vernon plucks the phone out of your hands, pressing it to his ear with a smug grin that you don’t usually see him wear.

“Who else?” he says. “Thanks for checking in, Nari. But we’re kind of…busy.”

The call isn’t even on loudspeaker but you can obviously hear the way Nari gasps like Vernon just unveiled some scandalous secret. “Oh my god. Are you—”

Vernon ends the call before tossing your phone back onto the couch, startling Milana out of her nap. Your cat flashes Vernon something similar to a dirty look before hopping off the cushions and sauntering off elsewhere. You just hope she doesn’t retaliate by wandering outside again.

But your cat’s newest penchant for wandering around is the last thing on your mind because even if you’re not facing him, you can sense Vernon’s towering presence directly behind you.

You don’t resist when he hugs you from behind—resting his forehead against your shoulder as he breathes out a shuddering sigh. His arms still feel like home despite being months into the breakup and you don’t know how to fucking deal with it.

“I still love you. Never stopped,” he whispers. “It was…completely stupid of me to think we’re better off as friends just because we’re coworkers. You’re too important to me. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to—”

You don’t even give him leeway to finish that sentence, whirling around in his embrace as you meet his lips in a quiet kiss.

In a split second, several things happen at once. Dying stars collide. Black holes collapse. Eternities unspool.

And you start to realize that you can’t live without Vernon Chwe.

“Shit, Hansol, please.”

Vernon loves how his other name falls so gracefully from your lips—loves how you frame the words in such an…interesting way. You only ever call him that when you’re feeling particularly strong emotions—happiness, anger, disappointment…

Pleasure.

He heaves a long sigh as he peels himself away from the home he’s made between your thighs. You’re not sure how long Vernon has been eating you out, but your brain is close to melting and you can’t process any other coherent thoughts aside from how your cunt still tingles from the orgasm he just gave you.

Your panties have long been discarded on the bedroom floor. All you’re donned with now is the old sweatshirt that you thought belonged to Jihoon but turns out was Vernon’s property all along. He insisted that you keep it on—emphasizing just how much he likes seeing you in his clothes before promptly robbing you of your capacity to think by eating pussy like it was his life’s purpose.

It doesn’t help that he looks so fucking delectable between your legs—big hands splayed across the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he looks up at you with a dazed expression. His lips are parted, still glossy from the aftermath of your release and the look in his eyes almost makes it seem like he’s the one who’s just been eaten out to completion.

“Fuck, ‘Sol,” you whimper, head falling back onto the pillows as you shield your eyes with your arm. You can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re about to combust. “Stop staring at me like that…”

Vernon leans down to pry your arm off your face—forcing you to meet his loving gaze before pressing your arm down onto the mattress.

“Like what?” he whispers, the blunt of his nail scraping against your bottom lip.

“Like you want to swallow me whole.”

His eyes almost crinkle with how wide he smiles at you and you nearly writhe with anticipation when you feel his drenched fingers prodding your slicked entrance again.

“What if I tell you that’s exactly what I want?”

Vernon’s mouth is on yours before you can even breathe, tongue bullying its way past your lips as he licks into your mouth. He slips the digits he used to tease you back into your wet channel and you delight in how he swallows your moans as he pumps them inside at a languid pace. Vernon has always been good at building your release from the ground up—never one to rush any orgasms he’s willing to give. As long as you feel good, he’ll exercise as much patience as he can.

“V-Vernon,” you gasp when he curls his fingers and thumbs at your clit at the same time, flicking your sensitive bud with just the right amount of pleasure that has your toes curling with pleasure. “Fuck, please, please—”

“Sounds so good for me,” he sighs, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before giving a delicious tug. “Wanna record all your pretty noises and use it in a song. D’you want that too, love? Want everyone to hear how nice you sound?”

The idea of him using your voice in the throes of pleasure for such a mundane thing sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You moan in reply, rubbing your needy cunt against his hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Vernon chuckles against your lips and his teasing almost makes you pout, if only he isn’t so fucking good at finding your g-spot.

The first time he makes you come, it’s with his mouth and the second is after he expertly picks you apart with his fingers. But no matter how well Vernon knows your body, you still think it’s fucking unfair for him to coax orgasm after orgasm from you like it’s as easy as breathing.

“Hansol,” you whisper—brain too fucked out to segreget his two names properly. “Want you inside me. Want all of you.”

He shakes his head with an audible tut, slipping his fingers out of your pulsing hole. The action makes you mewl in protest, but Vernon brings those same fingers to your lips to silence you.

“You have to work on your patience, love,” he murmurs, angling his face a little before his lips descend onto your neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve had you like this… I want to savor you. You’ll let me do that, right?”

All you can do is answer him with a helpless nod.

His sweatshirt is off in a split second, revealing your body to him in a way that makes you want to hide underneath the covers. He gazes at you so intensely, it makes you wonder how someone you broke up with three months ago still looks at you like it's the first time.

Vernon writes poetry onto your skin with each caress of his lips, making sure you feel everything he’s doing to you as he leaves no inch of your body untouched. Sex with him has always been intense, not because he likes to fuck hard and fast but because he likes to take his time—to sink himself into your skin deep enough that you can’t ever hope to flush him out of your system.

That’s probably one of the reasons why you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop loving him. He’s become such a fundamental part of your life that living without him is the same as breathing without oxygen.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips latch onto your breasts. “So fucking beautiful.”

Vernon isn’t a man of many words. You’ve come to know this for a fact, so whenever he spills all these compliments for you to hear, it makes your heart swell inside your chest. A handful of other people have called you that in the past, but when the words come from Vernon’s mouth, it feels like the gospel truth.

Fortunately, your lover was never too cruel to you. Sure, he likes to instill the value of patience, but Vernon never found the appeal of bringing your partner to tears because of their unquenchable need for release.

He doesn’t even make you beg for his cock. Vernon simply lines up the tip with your swollen entrance before slowly pushing inside—dark eyes cognizant of every shift in your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. When all he sees is you whimpering from how good it feels to be split open by his cock, he knows he’s doing it right.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly—hoping the words won’t be lost in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure. “I’m so in love with you.”

He ploughs you into the mattress slowly, deeply, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock as he fucks into you. Vernon is rarely vocal with his words when it comes to sex, but he makes up for it with the pleasurable sounds that escape his lips. And with how long it’s been since the two of you lied together like this, you wouldn’t blame him for feeling more unhinged than usual.

“I love you, too, ‘Sol,” you sigh but the words are eclipsed with a high-pitched keen when he amps up the pace of his thrusts.

“I love hearing you say that,” Vernon groans, biting his lip until he can taste iron on his tongue.

“Then I’ll keep saying it.” It’s a miracle how you manage to get the words out when he’s quite literally punching the breath out of your lungs with each stroke. “I’ll say I love you while you’re fucking me. I’ll say I love you even when you’re not.”

“I’ll say it all the time if it means you’ll come back to me.”

For a moment, the intense pace he’s set falters—eyes wide and mouth agape. You worry that you must’ve said something out of turn, but Vernon proves you wrong by pulling you forward into a tight embrace, fucking up into your tight cunt with a kind of vigor that you never would’ve associated with someone as easy going as he is.

“I’m yours, love.” he rasps against your neck, teeth grazing the skin just above the thrum of your pulse. “I’ll always be yours.”

The sudden switch in positions and the sincerity of his words is what pushes you over the edge a third time—making you cling onto Vernon like a lifeline as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. You can tell that he’s close. His strokes are more erratic, more frantic. Now that he’s brought you to the pinnacle, he doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t make it to that same paradise too.

When he comes, it’s a burst of white hot pleasure that singes through every single nerve ending in Vernon’s brain. You let out such an adorable little whimper as his cum coats your insides in generous spurts, filling you to the brim with his emission with the full intention of keeping it inside you for days.

But as much as he loves entertaining the idea of defiling you until everyone in the world knows you belong to him…

He’s always put great importance in the art of aftercare.

Both of you try very hard to ignore Milana’s judgemental stare as Vernon carries you to the bathroom—propping you up on the toilet cover first as he draws a warm bath. But from the way she dismissively leaves the two of you to your own devices after a few minutes, you like to think that you’ve gotten her seal of approval.

Your no-longer-ex-boyfriend gently lays you into the tub with him, reaching out for the soap on one of your toiletry holders as he massages you everywhere you’re sore. You let out a satisfied sigh before resting the back of your head against his firm shoulder.

“How’re you going to explain to the higher-ups that you’re dating one of their producers again?” you chuckle, placing your hand on top of his as he continues to clean you up. “Maybe I should just find a job somewhere else. A place where it isn’t illegal to have an idol as a boyfriend.”

“Maybe,” he muses before placing a firm kiss on your temple. “But whatever happens, I know I’ll always stick by you no matter what.”

You turn around, arching an eyebrow at him. “Even if it’ll cost you your job?”

You completely expect him to backtrack a little. Vernon is obsessed with you—you get that. But probably not to a point where he’s willing to breach the company’s contract just to keep being with you, right?

But for some reason, it sounds so fucking easy for him to say it when he whispers:

“Even if it’ll cost me my job.”

⟢ end notes: this is probably the sweetest thing i've ever written bc i personally headcanon vernon as someone who loves his s/o so deeply, it consumes him (like in a good way yk). i had so much fun writing this (esp since i got to sneak in vet!reader from again and again under the name nari hehe) so i rly hope you enjoyed it! do look forward to the last part of this series, which will feature resident catboy jeon wonwoo <3

this is part of the doting on you! series.

#svthub #seventeen smut #vernon smut #hansol smut #seventeen fanfic #chwe vernon fic #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

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stil-lindigo · 3 months

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Hello, very confused and overwhelmed outsider here. Looking at posts here and on news sites I see such pradoxical views, one saying to not support Palestine is to support genocide and the other saying to not support Israel is to be antisemitic. I wonder, and I am going around asking people on different sides of the war, do you believe it is possible to support both the lives of Palestinian people and the lives of Jewish people?

Feel free to ignore this ask or to point out any ignorance on my part. I hope you have some peace in your day/night, I can only imagine how stressful it is to have so many people asking so many serious questions.

hi anon. I’m gonna try to make this is as concise as possible, since I’m technically writing this on my lunch break. Yes, it is possible and in fact very easy to support the lives of Palestinian and Jewish people because - and this is the important part - Israel and Zionism is not Judaism. Depending on who you may ask, Zionism began as a pure-hearted desire for Jewish people post-WW2 to create a place that would always unequivocally be safe for Jews, but as I am not Jewish myself I feel like any description I might give comes off as insincere and not fully grasping the scope of that mission. But no matter what Zionism once was, it is now the belief that Jewish people have the right to commit genocide against indigenous population so that they can establish their ethno-state. And you can split hairs all you like, but after the past four months, my belief in that has only solidified.

Perhaps the strongest opposition to Israel comes from Jewish people themselves, who’ve popularized “not in my name” as a protest chant. Holocaust survivors have come out in droves to protest the actions of Israel, and they’re often the strongest front of any protest action since - yes, you’re right - mainstream news is very committed to selling the idea that this “war” is Jews vs Muslims which is just inflammatory racist garbage. There’s more to it than I can easily get into right now, but just for a start, it completely erases the existence of Palestinian Jews or Palestinian Christians, and also ignores Israel’s historically abusive and degrading treatment of their own Holocaust survivors in their population.

This “war” is not a war. It’s a genocide, where the total amount of bombs dropped on Gaza is officially over twice the impact of a nuclear bomb. One side is asking for a stop the fighting, for aid to be allowed through, they are asking for clean water and food as their women have been forced to rip off scraps off tents to use as menstrual products. One side has had all 35 their hospitals bombed (a war-crime the first time, and it continues to be a war crime every time it still happens), over 100 of their journalists have been targeted and murdered (more journalists than were killed in all of WW2, and btw this is also a war crime). And the other side films TikTok’s levelling apartment buildings, looting houses, kicking Palestinian hostages, stripping them naked and urinating on them. Israel has rained white phosphorus down on Palestine, they have bombed Palestine indiscriminately, they have destroyed archives, historical locations, they have done their best to rob Palestinians of their dignity and empathy and still, they’re not done.

Oh and the excuse that they’re just doing all of this to save the hostages? Hamas offered them all back in exchange for a ceasefire. And the Israeli prime minister, Netanyahu, said no.

In the future, try to get your news from trusted news sources like Al Jazeera, and following journalists on the ground like Bisan and Motaz.

#I recommend just scrolling through my page and looking at everything I’ve tagged as Palestine if you genuinely need a catch up #bc you cannot be entertaining arguments like this over 100 days into a genocide #it’s an insult to your own intelligence #palestine #free palestine #free Gaza #free West Bank

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stllmnstr · 3 months

Text

easy mode — a lee heeseung drabble

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: brother’s best friend au

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, (brief, non descriptive) vomit mention, veeeeery suggestive (but no explicit content/smut), sorry feminism I let heeseung win this round

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Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way.

It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly.

Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems.

It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules.

Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat.

But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours.

He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder.

And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter.

Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–

“Are you gonna do something about that?”

On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?”

Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder.

Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why.

He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public.

Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying his annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”

Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way.

He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sigh, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”

And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…

“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”

“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”

Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law.

Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public.

Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, at least for tonight, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”

Like always, Heeseung lets it go. Goes with the flow, at least on the outside.

But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort.

Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are.

In fact, they’re a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a beautiful bouquet. The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio setting the mood in the back.

The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight.

Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made with your mother’s missing tablecloth.

And Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to try his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor.

But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair as it came back up a few hours later.

And he was there for the rest of it, too. All the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers.

There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway.

But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old brain’s attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance.

Glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down.

Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, lets Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon.

Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him.

Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you.

The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening.

Instead, he wraps the skin of your wrist in long, precise fingers, drags you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears.

Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions.

Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways.

Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, and Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers, something more. But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it, an out if he needs it.

Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”

“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”

Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison is apparent.

Your shock morphs. Hardens. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal? I don’t need to be han–”

And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars.

Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will.

“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. “I’m talking about what you want.”

Something unreadable flickers through your gaze before you’re masking it with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Heeseung only grins. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”

If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as a scoff. “Pray tell.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they track in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. “I’d rather show you, and I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”

You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around things with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”

Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”

Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”

You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” Heeseung breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”

“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the ringleader himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”

Heeseung smiles as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. “You let all your friends look at you like that?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

But now you’re under his skin. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”

You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. He’s all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. “What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”

A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. “Is that an invitation?”

“A challenge,” you correct, sliding out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead.

After his misstep, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that leave him in the dust and ones that put a trophy in his wandering hands. In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice.

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note: I was having serious heeseung brother's best friend brainrot on my friday evening and decided to make it everyone's problem. (you're welcome/I'm sorry). and thanks for reading! thoughts, comments, tags, reblogs, and screaming are appreciated as always <3

#enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung x you #heeseung x you #heeseung x reader #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung drabble

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hart269 · 19 days

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Slithering Hearts

Chapter 1

Pairing : Regulus Black x Fem! Reader

Synopsis : You begin an unlikely friendship with the little Black. And soon your whole life seems to have become a tumultuous pathway. The catch, James Potter is your brother.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

You never know how much you're gonna miss a person until they are going away, even for a small period of time. Less to say you were feelling a little bummed watching your dear brother James standing in the platform waiting for the Hogwarts train. It was gonna be his first year, and even though you were gonna join him next year, it still didn't change the fact that he was going away, that too for a year.

While he busy getting being fussed over by mum and dad, you glanced up at the sound of the train coming. James turned excitedly, hugging mom and dad, before he could fully turn to you, you jumped on him cluthching him, "Aww, little zouwu, are you going to miss me"

"No", came your muffled sound, James patted your back, "I know I am special but don't cry over me now". He grinned at your glare.

"I'm not crying" you huffed.

"Whatever you say" James smirked.

"Write me letters" you mumbled.

"I will" He smiled, he probably will, if he didn't you had plans to *ahem* renovate his room.

And thus he walked towards the train, you looked around the station to see similar scenarios, your eyes met another kid's, your age probably considering he was still with his parents, his mom seemed to be scolding the older brother probably who looked physically pained to stand there. You waved at the boy, causing him to stare confusingly. That's when the train signalled, causing the older one to run towards the train. And soon you saw the train took off while clinging onto your dad's hand. "Let's go now", your mum muttered. As you turned to leave, you once again turned towards the boy you saw, just to find him already looking at you.

After that the whole year went in a blur, you learned about James's new adventures every week from his letters, there were ramblings of the new friends he had made, the annoying and the good teachers, journeys to hagrid's hut, about pranks that even your parents didn't know of and of the many adventures he had. All that only went into details when he came back for christmas and summer break.

The whole of summer break you pestered James to tell you everything you should know. You sat on the couch, legs resting on his stomach as he remain sprawled on the couch.

"Jamie, what house do you think I'll go to?"

"Hufflepuff, obviously" James smirked.

"What, why" you huffed, crosing your arms.

"I mean, you're not smart, not brave, not ambitious and that leaves you in- James voice craclked as his face was hit by the force of the couch pillow. He removed it, getting up staring at you with a malicious glint, causing you to run yelling "Dad, help me, James is hitting me"

"I didn't even -she did it first"

The Diagon alley was always a wonderful place to be, they always had some new and exciting things, you got your wand, a sleek yew wood with white river monster spine at its core.

Mr.Ollivander had glanced at her strangely, "Treat it poorly and you won't access its power, treat it right, it will be loyal to no other". You had nodded, deciding later to brew upon it. For the most part, you were happy to get your own, cause when James got it last year, he didn't even let you touch his, no matter how much you begged him.

You were currently left by your parents at the pet shop, you were searching for a good owl, when a small hustle caught your eye, a snow great horned owl, fighting with another brown one. As you came close, he stood up and stood in the front, fluffing his feathers as if it had done no wrong, cute, you thought.

Taking the owl in your hand, you had turned swiftly, almost colliding with the boy who was standing behind you, the owl screeched, catching him, you exclaimed a loud "Merlin". Staring wide eyed at him you seem to find his face quite familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint, why. Regulus hadn't meant to stand there but he too had found the owl's commotioninteresting. And before he could move, you collided into him, he kept looking at you before realizing he was blocking the way, "Oh, sorry" he muttered moved sideways, You smiled moving past him.

He stared back at the owl on the rack, he lifted his finger, the barn owl moved towards him, nuzlzling in his fingers, he smiled "She's sweet', taking the owl to the counter, he again glaced at the same girl, the shopowner smiled, "Oh, the lovebirds", Regulus head snapped towards the cashier, "What". The shopowner chuckled, "I meant the owls, they are quite in love with each other". You glanced at her curiously "But they were fighting". The shopkeeper smiled looking at them, "Oh, they haven't realised it yet".

Author's Note : The writer means no Hufflepuff slander, it is meant to taken as just a jest. The writer fully supports Hufflepufs like the other houses.

#regulus black #regulus black x female reader #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #marauders #james potter #sirius black #marauders era

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thefunkfactory · 1 month

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Fratulence

Jaxon had been given to Eli and Easton to be their own personal slave for an entire week as part of him pledging to Kappa Sigma. Jaxon had heard about Eli and Easton, and what he knew is that they were the dumbest and douchiest brothers in the Frat, in fact they are so dumb that it is rumored that they “do favors” to pass their classes. Even worse than being owned by two bros who are dumb as a bag of rocks and have a think they are the shit is that they have a habit of letting putrid gas rip out of their asses whenever and wherever they pleased, didn’t matter if they were in class or in bed with a hot babe, if they needed to fart they were going to. It was almost as if the two weren’t smart enough to realize that they can hold in their stink.

“Yo bro! Welcome to mi casaaaaa” Easton spoke in a deep voice, “Make yourself at home man! Mi…or well our casa is su casa too! At least for the week.” Eli proclaimed in the dumb Southern Californian accent he had. Eli turned to Easton “It gonna be so nice not having to do chores around here broooo!”, given the state of the dorm it didn't seem like either one of them had done chores here in the first place. “I only see two beds in here dude” Jaxon said to Easton, “Where am I gonna sleep?”. “Thats the best part man!” Easton snorted, “You’re gonna sleep on the floor.” Jaxon could tell this was going to be a hard week, the floor was covered in junk, trash, and foul smelling clothes that the two obviously don't even bother doing sniff tests on anymore.

“Ohhhh…greattttttt” Jaxon said through strained teeth. “Huhuh okay Jaxon since you’re ours for only a week we are gonna use you to your full potential” Eli said, “Yea man! Your blasters are gonna have to be on full throttle!” Easton added as he blasted out a fart. Eli punched his arm playfully and remarked “Huhu good one man that reeks, but we don’t want to knock out our new best bro!” Jaxon waved his hand in front of his nose as if it could do anything against the force of nature that is Easton’s fart fumes. “Huhu trust me that won’t help, anywaysss” Eli continued, “your first order is that you have to make your bed!”, “How am i supposed to do that if Im sleeping on the floor?” Jaxon pontificated. “Well we don’t want you to be uncomfy so all of our dirty clothes can be your mattress and blankets duhhh” Eli pointed out, Jaxon obliged making the smelliest bed he has ever had the misfortune of being on. Once he had made his bed the two bro’s told him “We want to go to sleep since it’s getting late so you have to sleep too so you don't wake us” Easton stated, “Oh okay! Let me just go brush my teeth an-.” Eli cut Jaxon off, “Nah I don’t think you need to brush your teeth, I mean we only do it in the morning so it's only fair that you do the same. The two frat bros breathed their foul breath in unison at Jaxon. Jaxon, barely keeping from gagging, responded with “Whatever you say” knowing that he would never get into Kappa Sigma if he fought back.

———————————————————————————

Over the course of the next week days Jaxon was constantly running errands, doing chores, doing Eli and Easton’s homework, etc. Jaxon was getting sick of the way the room always reeked like a High School locker room and hated the fact that he was starting to smell like that too. It was Saturday and Jaxon was so excited! Tomorrow he will be free from the stench, from the two bro’s stupidity, and will be a full fledged Kappa Sigma brother. That night the two bro’s ordered a pizza and got a bunch of soda and beer to celebrate his ascension into the frat. “uuuugh I am so so full!” Jaxon said, leaning his head back. “Me too” belched out Easton, Jaxon after being around the bro’s belching and farting all week found it kinda humorous now, his humor had regressed back to middle school but he didn’t mind. In fact Jaxon didn’t mind a lot now that he had spent a week with Eli and Easton. Jaxon didn’t mind the smell of the improvised bed all too much anymore, he didn’t mind doing all of Eli and Easton’s work, and he didn’t mind the farts anymore, the weak ones that is. He even started farting loudly in public just like them. “It’s been so fun having you here to do whatever we want man! We are gonna miss your servitude!” Eli said, “Yea man! Me and Eli were talking about it and we have one last thing we want to give to you!” Easton said excitedly, “It’s a surprise tho! So you gotta close your eyes!”. Jaxon, not wanting to not get the gift or insult them by not following their orders this last night did as he was told. Jaxon could hear the two shuffling around and Eli moved him from where he originally was in the dorm to right beside Eli’s bed. Still keeping his eyes closed he began to smell something rotten, it smelled like fermented cheese and unwashed ass. “One…Two…” he could hear them say in unison, “THREE” and all of a sudden he was met with a face full of ass fumes straight from the gassy bro bums. After what felt like a full minute, Eli and Easton’s putrefying butt vapors finally ceased. Jaxon sat there without saying a word. Inside his head the miasma of stink eliminated all higher thinking, Jax within a few seconds turned from a decently bright finance bro, to a bro dumber than a bag of rocks. Jax’s only future now would be as a janitor or something else of that nature. Jax’s memories were also being warped by the fumes, his strict heterosexuality loosening its grip became bisexuality as Jax began to have memories of sleeping with the other guys on the soccer team. All of his intellectual capacity and memories became one with the fart funk floating around in his head, but that cloud needed to go somewhere… As Eli and Easton began a second round of farts right into Jax’s face, Jax’s butt trumpet began to add to the symphony of flatulence. Just like that Jax essentially farted out his brain into a malodorous mist. Jaxon was gone, just a foul smell in a litany of foul smells in the room, all that remained was Jax, the dumb, gassy, bisexual frat bro. “Broooooooo” Jax moaned, “…That…was…SO RAD!” he said as his brain flickered back to life.

Jax, Eli, and Easton all became inseparable frat brothers, they had class together, they ate together, they played video games together, they jerked off together, and they fucked each other. But most importantly they farted together, constantly farting. No one would sit near them in the dining hall or in a single class due to the corrupting haze of gas that constantly surrounded the three. The three frat bros moved out to all live together, moving out of the cramped dorm room and into an off campus apartment. Jax’s fate continued to befall every guy who resided in that room, the FRATulence kept making the brilliant college students into dumb gassy bros, ready to add their own fart flavor to the room before they dropped out. “Rumor has it that the FRATulence has been absorbed into the carpet, mattresses, pillows, etc. But thats just some weird dumb story to keep this room empty I guess” Your RA told you when you moving in to the room with your roomie, “The rumors at this school are so weird man…” he commented. After he left your room, you and your roommate went back to unpacking and you yelled him as the funk of your roommate’s blundering fart filled your nostrils, “DUDE! You’re really gonna let one rip in here after that dumb story!” Soon you and your roommate are gonna leave your mark on this school, or at least on some poor pledges nose.

#farts #face farts #frat bro #stink #mental change #dumber #straight to bi #TTF

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joelsmochi · 1 year

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Joel Miller — There You Go

Part 2 here.

warnings: post-apocalypse, pre-ellie, age change + gap (joel is 53, reader is 33), smut (minors dni), unprotected piv sex + creampie, outdoor/public sex, reader has a thing for joel’s hands, joel has a thing for reader being a pillow princess, joel also has a thing for praising reader, joel loves spoiling reader what more can i say, definitely ooc joel, pet names (baby, pretty girl, doll, etc.), dirty talk, vanilla sex (? should this even count as a warning LMFAO), possessive!joel (only a little it's kinda cute), fluffy!joel, probably an over-usage of the word “pretty”, i always lazy proofread so there may be some typos <3

wc: 4k

a/n: there are so many mean!joel or rough!joel smuts (don’t get me wrong i be eating that shit up!) so i thought i’d do something a lil different & give y’all a sweet and endearing joel smut <3 this is lowkey inspired by the scene from jason’s lyric + inspired by a comment i saw where someone said pedro/joel would definitely talk you through it .-.

“The sun feels so good,” I think aloud. “Come lie down! You should try it!” I glance over at Joel who is cleaning the pot that we just ate dinner out of.

“You’re gonna get sunburnt,” is all he says. I don’t respond, enjoying the warm blanket the sun is providing. A few minutes later I hear him sit next to me which makes him block the sun from my face so I open my eyes and smile up at him.

He and I aren’t that close, but it never hurt to try and grow closer with him—sometimes he’d give in and laugh with me, but most of the time it was like talking to a brick wall that occasionally grunted at you or rolled its eyes. I understand though. I’m sure he lost someone he loved so deeply and that kind of shit changes you. I’ve lost more people than I can count and no matter how much you try to prepare for it, you’re just never ready. That’s why I always try to get him to smile, I want him to know that someone still cares about him even if he doesn’t care for anyone anymore.

But I know he does. I know for a fact that he cares about me. He never let’s me hold him when we’re trying to sleep but the second I hear his breaths deepen I always wrap my arms around him and he shuffles his back deeper into my body. I loved the way he was too emotionally calloused to warm up to me because it makes me want to fight harder for him which reinforces the fact that I care about him.

“Thank you for dinner, you sure know how to whip up some twenty-year-old ravioli,” I joke.

He just nods and looks at the trees in front of us.

“How old were you when this all started? Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-three,” he corrects.

“Hmm, same age I am now.”

“Ain’t that a bitch?” He huffs, clearly exhausted from our hike. I sit up in front of him and grab his hands; he tries to pull back while giving me a dirty look so I just grip him harder. “What are ya doing?” He asks.

“Holding your hands,” I say with a cheeky tone and a grin.

“Why?”

“Because I think about touching ‘em all the time,” I tease.

He takes a few breaths, watching to see if I break my smile. “You think… About my hands?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, “I think about your fingers.” I hold one of his hands up to my face and analyze his digits, memorizing the cuts and bruises and wrinkles along them. Even though my words are true, I still played as if I were joking endearingly, but the more I looked at his fingers the more complicated it got. I feel my nipples perk up underneath my tank top from the cool breeze and… Well, from being horny. “I think you’re a cool guy,” I say after looking at him and dropping his hand.

“Why?”

Shrugging, I say, “Because you take care of me. You teach me a lot.”

His eyebrows rise and force wrinkles onto his forehead. “I teach you a lot?”

I hum again, nodding slowly and blinking even slower not able to hide my true intentions anymore. “Yeah, you… Taught me how to use a gun safely… You taught me how to get past an infected… You taught me how to hunt a buck.”

“Shit your parents shoulda taught ya when your were a kid,” he retorts, letting me know he doesn’t see my desperation.

“Maybe,” I whisper. I carefully move onto my hands and knees, slowly crawling closer to him. “Maybe I was just meant to have you as my teacher.” The look in his cold eyes shifted yet he continues to leave me confused. I may be overstepping here, but his lack of resistance only urges me to push further and further. I bat my eyelashes at him and reach my nose just in front of his. “You could even teach me how to fuck.”

His eyes bat shut and he exhales as if he were committing the worst of sins. His eyes reopen after a few quiet seconds and they flicked between both of my own eyes. His cold irises were now warm with dilated pupils and his pulse is beating so strong I could see it pump against the skin along his collarbones. I glance at his lips more than once and press one of my hands to his thigh.

“Is this okay?” It comes out shakier than I intended it to as my breathing feels much heavier than before. Joel makes me feel so small but in the best way possible. It’s as if he were my sworn protector and I could always count on him to be there for me. Like a lovestruck twenty-year-old, I cling to him in my most desperate of times even though he pretends to hate it. I could tell he likes having someone to take care of, and I love that he takes care of me.

Hesitating, he nods and carefully reaches for my forearms.

“You sure?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he whispers sounding more desperate than me.

I can’t help but simper at both his confirmation and touch, finally touching my nose to his. A knot twists deeply into my stomach, and my chest fills with waves of nervousness. “I’ve only done it a couple times,” I whisper.

“That’s okay,” he hums against my lips, his chest rumbling at the low vibrations from his voice. “I’ll teach you.”

I snicker and giggle at his words earning the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen on him in the time I’ve known him, then he presses his lips to mine so softly I thought I was imagining it. The smack of his warm mouth dazes me momentarily and I grasp onto his shoulders before completely falling into his touch. He lies back onto the blanket and encapsulates my body with his thick legs and firm arms. He whines into my mouth and holds onto my waist as if I would fall apart if he let go.

I pull away after a while to look down at him, wondering how we should start. It’s been well over a decade since my last time and I don’t want to disappoint Joel.

“Lie down,” he instructs while admiring my flustered look.

I do as he says and allow him to take my shoes off, which he does so carefully. I always pegged Joel to be a bit rougher, and eager for it, especially after a long time of waiting.

His fingertips nuzzle the hairs along my calves and thighs up until they reach the hems of my shorts and this is where my expectations become true; he wraps his fingers into the folds and tugs gently, probably trying to pace himself, but the rise and fall of my chest catch his attention and his patience runs out. He yanks my button undone and doesn’t even bother taking my shorts off, he just slips his hand inside to feel around. I prop myself up with my elbows to get a better view of everything. He strokes the stubble along my pelvis, then around my clit, dipping down to my entrance and slightly parting my lips to see how ready I am.

I inhale at the feeling of his warm finger coming into contact with my cool precum, locking eyes with him to watch the subtleties in his face change at every new feeling he notices. He just barely whispers, “Fuck,” when he rises his finger to my clit. He gives it a gentle stroke and watches me breathe slowly for him. “You’re doing so good, staying still like that for me,” he praises. I bite my lip and confidently smile at him. He starts to rub soft circles onto my skin, eliciting a gentle coo from me. The space between my eyebrows tightens at the relief and my eyes close softly. “Fuck, look at’ya… So eager for me already, huh?” I look at him and nod. “Tell me how bad you want it, doll.”

“Do you remember the night we first met?” I ask between moans. “And I had that cut on my arm that you had to clean and wrap? All I could do was stare at your fingers and—and imagine how good they would feel rubbing my clit the way you’re doing right now. It was the first night I had touched myself in almost a year.”

He squints at me sharing this information and rewarding me with more pressure from his fingers. “And how often do you touch yourself now?”

“In the past two years I’ve known you?” I sheepishly ask; he nods and halts his moving fingers. Desperately wanting him to keep going, I shout, “Almost anytime I get left alone for longer than ten minutes.”

“Since we’re being honest…” He leans down to my ears to whisper, “…Sometimes I leave you alone to touch myself as well.” He takes his hand out of my shorts to slide them off of me.

He looks around the trees, and I do the same to make sure no one living or infected is around; once we’re sure it’s clear he sits to remove his boots which I laugh when it starts to take a long time. I reach for his shirt buttons, undoing them carefully as a few were hanging literally by a thread. I push his flannel shirt off of his arms while he finally kicks his boots off, then he hovers his head over mine and just barely pushes his pants down to reveal his swollen cock. I reach for it despite my intimidation at the girth but he stops me, guiding me to lie down again.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?” He asks against the skin above my collarbone whilst placing lovely kisses all over my neck.

“It’s really big,” I say tensely, laughing at myself.

He gives me a juicy kiss and shares a winsome look with me. “I’ll be gentle if you want,” he promises. I barely smile, not realizing how harshly my nails are digging into his arm. I give him a slight nod and spread my legs slowly for him. “I promise I’ll be real nice to your pretty pussy.”

I lift my head up to kiss him again and he shifts to rest his body weight on top of me with his hand reaching between our bodies to line his tip up with my entrance. His tongue folds over my lips and into my mouth restlessly and I feel his hips push forward against me. I prepare myself for the discomfort, squeezing my eyes tightly and pulling away from the kiss to brace myself.

It’s difficult to breathe with my ribcage pushing against him and I feel him leave a trail of kisses along my jawline in an attempt to soothe me. I constantly squeeze around his thick cock, trying to ignore the slight burning and get used to the pain faster. He notices how long I remain tense and anxious, so he taps my cheek gently with his fingers and I open my eyes to look at him which relaxes almost every nerve in my body.

“Just relax, honey, okay? Can you do that for me?” My eyes roll to the back of my head as his raspy voice continues to beg me to relax. “Hmm? Can you relax for me, baby girl?” He pulls back a little and begins to slowly pump himself in and out of me, chuckling as he watches my body actively relaxing around and beneath him. “There you go… There you go… Here.” He adjusts his knees to be flush against the back of my thighs and moves my arms and legs to wrap around his back. “How’s this?”

I wait for him to start moving again, noticing the difference in closeness. “Yes!” I hiss. I feel his hand pop my boobs out of the top of my tank top and I look to his fingers to watch them rub against the sewn-in rose in the middle of the shirt, but soon enough his hand cups my boob and gives it a delicate squeeze. I notice my pussy get wetter at the steady pace he is going at, feeling the curve of his cock hit the deeper parts of me.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Joel,” I moan. I slide the straps of my shirt off of my arms to get a better grip on him making him smile at the now bunched-up fabric around my waist. All I can do is moan and roll my eyes back and forth at his cock filling me up repeatedly. With my thighs trembling around his hips, my nails digging into his back, and my back arching deeper into the ground, he lifts his upper half off of me more than likely to see me—all of me.

He drives his hips faster, not fully entering inside of me but using the curve of his shaft to his advantage. As my hands flail around either gripping the sheet or his arms, I accidentally dig my knees into his stomach, and I can tell it’s hurting him but he doesn’t stop.

“Come on, baby,” he grunts, somehow managing to go even faster, “cum for me, pretty girl, I can feel it—oh, look at’cha!”

I whine at the ticklish feeling of his tip rubbing against my g-spot, feeling sudden shocks in my nerves from my stomach to my feet. I feel my muscles stop squeezing around him and start pushing against him as my orgasm creeps up. Joel hunches over to pop one of my nipples into his mouth adding waves of electricity to swim through the rest of my body.

“Joel, I—“

“Shh, shh shh shh,” he mumbles against my breast. “Look at me, darlin’. Hold onto me.” My fingers wrap into his curls and I watch his eyes trail over my face. I feel myself fall over the edge and into my orgasm, and his words seem to only exist to intensify this burst of energy. “God, look at you cumming for me—oh, my God, I can feel it," he repeats. "I can feel you cumming, it feels so fucking good."

“Yeah?” I whimper. “Fuck, please don’t stop!” He grunts and gets a bit more sloppy with his thrusts which help ride out the rest of my orgasm. I release his hair and drop my legs down next to his, feeling soreness spreading throughout my thighs from them being stretched. “Do you want to switch?” I ask after seeing how tired he is.

He pretty much pouts and shakes his head, cupping my face in one of his hands. “No, baby. I wanna take care of you,” he says. “You look so pretty in the sun.”

I blush to thank him, then take his scruffy face into my hands and give him a few kisses until they turn into our tongues dancing together. I moan at the taste of his skin, pushing my hips down to get his shaft deeper inside of me.

He listens to my body and instead of thrusting he rocks his hips after resting some of his weight on me again. I feel the layers of sweat from both of us stick his skin to mine but we just ignore it. All I care to focus on are his groans and the way his cock fits so perfectly inside of me.

“I was made just for you,” I moan, reaching out to run my hands along the hair on his chest.

He shoves one of my legs up on his shoulder, bending forward to somehow fuck me even deeper. “You were made just for me?” He asks, kissing the inside of my knee.

I mewl out, cursing at how smoothly his hips continue to roll in between my thighs. “Yes, Joel!” I shout when he shoves his dick all the way inside of me, stopping once he presses against my depths. “My pussy was made just for you!”

I watch his pretty eyes roll under his twitching eyelids, and he whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. I gasp at his shaft throbbing inside of me and cradle the back of his head.

He lifts himself to his knees again, forces my legs to spread apart, and pulls out. “Fuck, baby,” he groans with furrowed eyebrows. “You keep talking like that you’re gonna make me cum too fast.”

Grinning wide, I sit up and turn around to my hands and knees like earlier. I figured a change in position could help excite things a bit more, plus my ass is starting to hurt. I moan and giggle while I tauntingly wave my ass for him to grab. Instead, he yanks my knees back knocking me down to my stomach which admittedly hurt a little bit, but I didn’t care. I finally got to have Joel and that was all I needed.

He pushes my legs apart with his chest pressing against my back. I shudder at his warm breath on my sweat-covered cheek and ear, flinching when he nibbles on my lobe—not from pain, but surprise. He moves down to bite my shoulder, then my spine before I feel his hand push his thick cock back inside of me.

I kick my limp legs up to meet his wide thighs and lay my face against the ground. He fucks me like he’s desperate for me to know how strong he is, how weak he can get me. I arch my neck up for my lips to meet his chin; listening to his little whimpers has my entire body weak for him. I didn’t want the noises to stop, I don’t want him to stop.

“Oh, baby,” he whimpers some more, “you feel so good. S-oh good.” His breath is shaky as are his words.

“I want you to cum inside of me, Joel,” I beg before pecking his chin. I relax the arch in my neck to instead bury the back of my head into his shoulder. He stops for a few seconds to absorb my words, using this time to wrap his arms below and around my stomach. “I love the way you fuck me,” I whisper against his jaw. “You make me feel so good, baby.”

“That’s my job, honey,” he tells me, thrusting a couple of times. “Oh sh—oh my God,” he mewls. He bites my cheek which makes me giggle and turn my head to kiss him. He starts to drill in and out of me while our lips fold over each other, our moans and begs and whimpers falling out occasionally. I feel that bubble growing inside of me again just itching to be popped, and I completely crumble when he says, “You take my cock so good, princess, I know you got another one in ya.”

I can’t even speak whilst he wraps his strong hand around my neck to hold my head up rather than to choke me. I cry out his name shallowly and squeeze around him so tight I’m sure his cock started to ache. He curses into my neck, not letting up on my pussy one bit. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.

“You look so fucking pretty when I fuck you. Look at how helpless you are, fuck. You’re mine, pretty girl.”

“I love the way you fuck me, Joel,” I say breathlessly as my orgasm doesn’t let up.

“My sweet girl,” he coos in my ear. “Keep talking to me, mmm, I love hearing you beg for it.”

By this point, I am suffering from the pain of overstimulation, which I never thought could hurt so bad but feel so damn good at the same time. “You’re so good to me, Joel,” I tell him doubtlessly. “I want you to cum for me, please.” His body jerks a few times and it instills confidence in my tone. “I want you to use me… Use me to cum, please…”

“You want me to cum in that pretty pussy a’yours? Hmm?” He cuddles his face into my shoulder blade, striving to reach even deeper inside of me. “Turn around. I wanna see you,” he whispers; I turn around and he lifts me onto his lap, still standing on his knees. His burly forearms manage to hold me up enough for him to keep doing all of the work, but by this point, I was thankful for it with how much he’s worn me out. “You take my cock s’good. Look at your pretty face, your pretty little helpless face.”

I watch as he takes his lip between his teeth into his weeping mouth, breathless gasps leaving my own. He looks so majestic with how the sun casts subtle shadows along his face; his vulnerability coats the look in his eyes as his face begins to relax which tells ms he is close. His nails dig into my spine and he looks to me for reassurance.

I run my fingertips over Joel’s broad shoulders and blink slowly, drawing my tongue out to lick his lips briefly. “Can you cum for me, baby?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” he says, heavily nodding his head. “Anything for you, honey.” He kisses me swiftly, smiling at me and stroking my thumb over his cheekbone. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

We both moan out little praises against each other's faces and lips and sometimes kiss roughly. My chin burns from his stubble but I don’t pull away from him. I don’t want to. I just want to feel all of him.

He tells me he’s going to cum once more and I say, “Look at me, baby. Look at me when you cum.”

I hold his head still in my hands and rock my hips against his, but he stops me by pushing my hips into him and holding me there. I whine but allow it, cockily grinning at him when I feel his warm cum paint my walls. He is a whimpering mess, cowering his face to my chest. His body twitches underneath my legs and his hands fall to my ass, squeezing it enough to lift my hips up and back down a couple of times. Grunting when he finishes, he peels his face from my skin to smile down at me after lying me down carefully. He looks around for a moment before pulling out and laying next to me.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” he says, still out of breath.

I look over at him and twist to my side. “It’s okay. I know you like taking care of me.”

“Do I now?”

I nod and hum. “You’ll never say it, but I know you do.”

Joel also turns onto his side to stare at me. “I like taking care of you,” he admits with a hoarse voice. He reaches to pull my shirt straps back over my arms before covering my boobs, then grabs my panties to slide them up my legs but stops when he gets to my vulva just to place a kiss on it. He half-dresses himself before pulling my warm legs onto his lap; I sit up to get more comfortable and stare at his hands massaging my legs. “Your face is sunburnt,” he tells me.

I touch my cheekbone and flinch when I feel it is indeed sunburnt. “Dammit.”

“Doll, I want ya to know that this doesn’t mean nothing to me. It isn’t nothing, I mean… It’s something… If you want it to be.”

“Something?” I question with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah…” He shrugs, looking back down at my legs. “If you want.”

I crawl into his lap, responding to him with a loving kiss. “I want you. Not something.”

“Oh, pretty girl…” He moves some hair from my face and bashfully smiles at me. “You already got me.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou smut

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magicalbats · 6 months

Text

Flesh-Devouring Part 2

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 20,217

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, thigh grinding, mutual masturbation, belt spanking, some very mild violence (reader is mostly a helpless bystander nvxcnvde), a pinch of angst for spice

A/N: okay, I promise I’ll work on the next kinktober prompt now 🙈 and also we're just gonna' pretend Wriothesley has an actual belt somewhere on his person, I eyeballed the hell out of his official art and started to doubt myself buuuuuut I was already fully committed to the bit so dvdknvgkdngg

⭐

“Good morning, your grace!”

Looking up from the sheaf of papers in his hand, Wriothesley swivels his head around to watch you disembark from the elevator with a noticeably eager skip in your step. He quirks a brow at it and fully turns to greet you at your approach. “Good morning, little miss. You certainly seem to be in a good mood today.”

You can’t quite keep the smile off your face as you come to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating in your excitement. “Of course I am! Todays the day I finally get to meet with some of the inmates and get started on our new program, what else would I be?”

He smiles at that. “While your enthusiasm is quite commendable, I must remind you not to get your hopes up too much. The group that volunteered for this is a — mixed crowd, so to speak. I’m not exactly sure what sort of reaction you’re going to get.”

Drawing a stilted breath, you square your shoulders and give him a brief nod of understanding. You knew he was just being practical and realistic as always, but you felt good about this. Optimistic. You were positive your efforts would soon pay off in a very real, very tangible way, and at last justify all the grief you’d suffered at his hands just to get here. For weeks now you’d been meeting with him, discussing, planning, organizing and fine tuning a plan of implementation, all while wrestling with your own self control where the duke was concerned. There wasn’t any use denying that you liked kissing him a great deal. In fact, it seemed to be your new favorite activity, amongst other, less wholesome things …

Even now you could feel the urge to go up on your tiptoes so you could tug him down to your level threatening to overpower your common sense, but there were much more important matters at hand. You’d told yourself this over and over again, repeating it like a mantra to steel your resolve and keep your mind focused on matters of business instead of giving in, and it was going to pay off. Today. Here and now. You could feel it.

“I understand, your grace. I will make sure to keep my expectations appropriately tempered.”

Wriothesley looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe that, but he relents without further pressing you on it. His boots sound impossibly heavy on the steel plated flooring as he half turns, motioning you ahead. “Let’s be off then. Did you bring everything you need?”

“Yes, your grace.” Clutching your worn leather carry case in hand, you fall into step beside him as he leads you down the long winding corridor.

The Fortress of Meropide is somehow both stuffy and chilly at the same, the air thick but infused with the cool temperature bleeding in off the water that surrounds it. You’d learned your lesson the first time you came here (in more ways than one) and had opted for a light jumper over your blouse to stave off the ever present note of cold which you could take off if you got too warm. That seemed like a not far off possibility when you were internally quaking with nerves, both eager and anxious, but for now at least you just keep your attention on him while he gives you a brief rundown of who was supposedly going to show up for this little meeting he’d arranged for you.

Sixteen inmates had signed up. Not even half of that number were finished with their sentences, the vast majority still actively serving time, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed about that. You’d of course hoped to give those who had made the conscious decision to stay at Meropide a chance to reconsider integrating back into overworld society but you try to remind yourself that this was only the first preliminary phase of a much greater project. If things went well today, there would be plenty of time to work with the others.

“Ah, and before I forget.” He says, sending you a meaningful look. “Someone by the name of George should be in attendance, if he bothers to show up. He’s a little rough around the edges but don’t let what he says get under your skin. He’s had his sentence extended twice now and as I’m sure you can imagine he’s a bit grumpy about that.”

“Understood.” You give the clutch of your bag a fierce squeeze. “May I ask why?”

Wriothesley thinks that over for a beat. “The first time was due to excessive fighting outside of the regulated channels. We have a three strikes policy here, as I’ve mentioned before. I suspect he was trying to assert himself as the top dog in his block but he ran into a bit more opposition than he was expecting, so he had to start using his fists instead.”

“And the other?”

“He tried to take one of the sponsor representatives hostage and use her as a bargaining chip.”

Your eyes go big. “Oh.”

Smiling one of those rare but incredibly flattering genuine smiles, he reaches out to lightly nudge your elbow. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time to keep everything under control and make sure nobody gets out of hand but the ball will be in your court, little miss. I’m just your guard dog today.”

You hate the way fluster slowly creeps up your neck but you valiantly stamp it back down as you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you, your grace. I … I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“I know you do. But don’t thank me just yet. Wait until after we see what kind of response you get.”

That gentle warning niggles at the back of your mind like the tickling whisper of sharp claws brushing your skin, and your stomach gives a little flip. You were nervous to meet with them face to face despite being excited to get started. Working in the public affairs office and spending most of your time at a desk didn’t exactly prepare you for hands-on encounters such as this, but between your unfaltering conviction and Wriothesley’s ever present cool demeanor at your side you keep your head held high.

Up a short flight of metal steps and down another steel plated hall, you find yourself stepping into a small room that, based on the rickety old tables tightly packed into the cramped space, looked like it was perhaps largely used as a card room. You can’t help but feel a dull rush of relief at finding it yet unoccupied by anyone. Unable to fight the urge any longer, you reach out to snag Wriothesley’s sleeve and he sedately turns to look down at you.

Shuffling closer until you were practically pressed right up against him, you offer him an imploring look as you go up on your toes. “Your grace …?”

Something distantly sparks in his eyes and, humming softly, he carefully bends down to press his mouth to yours in an altogether chaste kiss. But even for as innocent as it is — not nearly as heated as some of the kisses you’d exchanged with him in recent memory — it still inspires a flood of warmth in you that races down your body. Sighing softly, you lean further into him and give yourself over to the stilted, hard press of his lips on yours.

It lasts for only a brief moment though, and your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks when he pulls back just enough to speak. “Don’t be scared.” He tells you quietly, so gently it makes your heart wrench.

“I’m not scared, just … nervous, is all. I think.”

Humming quietly, he gives you another quick, lingering kiss that makes your bottom lip warble against your will. “You’ll do great. I know you will, but even if you should happen to fall I’ll be right there to catch you. Just like always, right?”

Your face was quickly starting to become unbearably hot. Oh, how you wanted him so badly, even if he was the most confounding, frustrating man you’d ever met. “Will — will you have me later? When we’re done …?”

Wriothesley goes still, just looking at you for a drawn out moment, but you’re a little too embarrassed to be saying something so shameful out loud to meet his gaze anymore. Flutteringly, your hand comes up to anxiously tug at the fur collar of his coat under the guise of straightening it for him, even though you really wanted to use it to tug him in against you.

Finally, at length, he draws a carefully tempered breath. “How do you want me to have you, little miss?”

The violent shudder that abruptly tears through you almost has you going cross eyed. “I - I’m not sure, I just … I feel like such a mess inside and everything is confusing, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I want you to — to - -“

“Oh, sweet girl,” He exhales slowly, and you jolt when one of his hands finds your hip. Giving it a tight, possessive squeeze to make you tremble, he drags that oppressive palm further back and around to grab a pinching handful of your ass. “Do you need me to ground you in place? Is that what you’re asking me for? Huh?”

You sway unsteadily, feeling terribly faint when it seemed as if you were being smothered under his weighty presence. The heavy, rough calloused hand gripping your backside through the seat of your pants, the body heat bleeding off of him in waves to settle into you; the smell of him swarming your senses to settle on the back of your tongue and leave the masculine taste you’d come to recognize solely as the duke’s cloying in your throat. It was all too much.

Much, much too much.

Whimpering softly, you force your attention up to look in his face, still hovering mere millimeters from yours even when doing so proves to be quite the struggle. “Yes.” It’s little more than a faint whisper. “I want … I need you to reorient me. It feels like I’m — lost out at sea. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

With a barely audible, rumbling growl, Wriothesley closes his fingers around the meat of your ass hard enough to make your breath hitch in your chest. “You need your head cleared so you can focus all that energy you have where it belongs. I’ll give you that outlet, as much as you require it. I have no problem giving you a guiding hand, little miss. You know that.”

Your mouth warbles in a jittery smile, unable to keep it at a bay even when you try very hard to stop it from spreading across your face. You didn’t fully understand it yourself, what you were asking for or what you needed. All you’d seemed to grasp over the short time you’d known him was that Wriothesley made you feel good. Almost inexplicably so. Even when he was being infuriating and condescending towards you, even when he’d give your poor bottom a handful of stinging swats at the first sign of attitude to remind you to behave yourself, it still didn’t detract from this flutter low in your gut. There was something deeply gratifying about being with him like this, in this particular dynamic, and for as little as you know what to make of any of it, he seems to know exactly what it is you instinctively crave from him. Why you keep seeking him out this way.

The sapphires in his eyes shutter with what you’re starting to recognize as desire in his otherwise implacable facade and he leans in again, issuing an anticipatory breath into the scant space separating you. His mouth finds yours, as sure as any compass points north, drawing a threadbare moan from the depths of your shuddering gut. You lean into him, lips carefully parting to kiss him back, and — the shuffling sound of heavy approaching footsteps echoing off the metal walls has you wrenching back from him so fast your head spins.

Eyes going impossibly wide, you quickly slap him away in your fluster and rush to extricate yourself from his person. Chuckling softly, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about being caught in such a compromising situation, Wriothesley lets you go, but not without a playful swat to your ass when you move to brush past him. You yelp at the mild sting but keep your attention ahead as you hurry over to deposit your bag on one of the tables so you can dig in it and give your racing heart a chance to calm down. Even now you somehow manage to be surprised at how utterly unapologetic he was about everything!

Forcing your lungs to expand on a deep, steadying breath, you listen to the approaching shuffle behind you until an unmistakable shift of occupancy in the cramped room indicated that you were no longer alone with the duke. You keep your head down just a moment longer, both to ensure you had your expression under control and to also listen to the way Wriothesley amicably greets the inmates. You’d never gotten to see him interact with them before and, rather than coming off like the strict, hardass warden you’d had a first impression of, he almost seems to talk to them like they were … friends? Or at least on friendly terms with each other.

Could it really be that you were the only one unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you looked at it) enough to bring out that side of him? But why would that be …?

Slowly, more people start to drift in and you have to make a concerted effort to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind so you can stay focused on what really matters. You take your time neatly organizing your stacks of papers, the forms you’d carefully composed on the typewriter in the affairs office, and make a concerted effort to greet everyone with a smile when they move away from the duke to find their seats. Some of them are rather friendly when they respond, but others simply look at you without a single word and not so much as a backwards glance. No matter, though. You didn’t exactly come here to make friends.

All in all, only seven inmates show up. A pair of shady looking brothers, one woman and the rest are men who just disinterestedly eye you up and down with varying levels of annoyance reflecting in their eyes. You can’t quite shake the feeling that they’d expected someone a bit more impressive than the slight, eager-faced woman wearing a jumper and slacks standing before them now, and it probably didn’t help that you looked downright diminutive standing next to Wriothesley either. Oh, well. You were just going to have to try and make the best of it.

“Hello, everyone,” You chirp, a little higher in pitch than you’d intended thanks to your jittery nerves. “It looks like we won’t be getting anyone else today, so let’s get started. I’m very excited to be working with all of you.”

Resounding, echoing silence and a wall of blank stares.

You waver slightly, but recover admirably. “I’m from the office of public affairs, and recently I’ve been working with his grace here to come up with programs for the prison that can help or otherwise enrich the lives of the inmates here. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come see me, and I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to speak freely. This preliminary meeting is first and foremost going to function as a feeler so we can get an idea of what sort of activities you'd like to see offered at the prison in the future.”

More silence. More staring.

You can feel your face starting to grow warm even though you’ve also broken out into a cold sweat, and you flounder for something else to say. Far be it that you’d expected them to jump for joy and lift you in the air over their heads in celebration or anything as preposterous as that, but you had anticipated at least some kind of response. What were you supposed to do when they wouldn’t even speak so much as a single word to you? It’s not like you could get anything of worth out of this if you were the only one talking.

Suddenly, Wriothesley shifts beside you and the soft creak of his boots makes your pulse nervously jump. “I expect all of you to show our guest some respect today. I'm not sure why you would sign up for this if you had no intention of participating, so let’s get it in gear. If you have something to say, now is your chance to say it.”

The brothers sitting nearest to you bend their heads close and exchange a quick, muffled conversation between themselves, but you’re a little too rattled by the tone of Wriothesley’s voice to make out what they’re saying. Ah, so it wasn’t just you then. Good to know.

“What sort of activities are we talking here?” One of the men in the rear suddenly speaks up, snapping your attention back into the present.

“O - oh, yes. We were thinking things like trade skills and daily lifestyle necessities that could give you a better sense of independence while you’re here. Things like sewing or cooking, or - -“

“Why would we need any of that?” The only other woman in the room chimes in. “Meropide works just fine as is and the system already in place provides us with all of that.”

“Well, yes, but - -“

“Yeah, what do I need to know sewing for when I could just as easily pass it off to someone who already knows how to do it?” One of the brothers, the larger and seemingly more cantankerous of the two, adds on, making you pull your mouth into a firm line.

“That’s exactly why.” You assert in an equally firm voice. “The prison’s internal functionality works like a well oiled machine, doesn’t it? Why want for anything else when everything is already right where it needs to be. Just like cogs, everyone fits into their role and they fit it well. You all keep Meropide running as it should, there’s no doubt about that. But each and every one of you has a life beyond the role you take on here. You aren’t just cogs, and you aren’t just part of the greater machine. I want to give you a chance to be independent of that clockwork, even if it’s only for an hour or two each day, and remind you that there’s still something beyond these tin walls.”

You draw a steadying breath, carefully taking in the faces sitting before you. It looked like a few of them were starting to come around, or were at least curious enough to actually hear you out now, and that bolsters your courage by some margin. You could do this. You would.

“I know how easy it is to get comfortable with the lifestyle here. His grace has taken the time to explain to me in great detail the ins and outs of the prison, how everyone lives on a schedule, what freedoms you’re allotted and what has restricted access. I’m aware that there is a great deal of self governing here in the fortress, which is precisely why I want to give you all an opportunity to deviate from that routine. It might be fun, right? Having a little bit of your old life back?”

A few looks are exchanged between some of the inmates, a soft murmur rising up, and your heartbeat starts to quicken. Next to you, Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh before moving back to lean against the wall, leaving you feeling strangely alone and exposed standing there by yourself. You shoot him a quick, harried glance over your shoulder but he just crosses his arms over his chest and nudges his chin at the small congregation. When you turn back around, you’re more than a little surprised to find the other woman leaning towards you in obvious interest.

“I always wanted to be a seamstress some day.” She abruptly announces, startling you slightly. “My mother taught me when I was younger, but I never got a chance to really hone the skill. Is that really something you could arrange?”

You swallow your nerves, hearing Wriothesley’s reminder not to get your hopes up in the back of your mind, but it was so hard not to when she was looking at you like that. You wanted to help her. More than anything else, you just wanted to give them something more to live for.

“I believe we can. His grace and I have already reached out to a few businesses, and a few of them have expressed willingness to volunteer their services to the prison. I’m sure if everything goes well and word of mouth starts to spread, we could convince others to do the same as well.”

“I did always want to be a chef.” The larger brother admits somewhat sheepishly, and you smile. You couldn’t help it.

This was really working.

It doesn’t take long to have a full dialogue going after that. Even with the one or two stragglers still wary and uncertain about introducing any real changes to the system the overall reception seems to be resoundingly positive. You talk with them, discussing what they’d like to do, what they’d like to potentially see implemented, and through it all Wriothesley just hangs back against the wall, watching over everything like a silent sentry just at your back. He even stays true to his word and lets you be in charge even when tempers seem to flare up in disagreement every so often instead of snatching the reins from you at the first sign of trouble. All it takes is a sharp look from him or a low word of warning, and everyone grudgingly settles back down, which was not something you’d expected to relate so much with them about but you do. It almost feels like a strange sense of solidarity in a way, and you were immensely glad to have him on your side like this.

Everything goes so well, in fact, that by the time a real problem raises its head, you almost overlook it completely. The man in the far back corner hadn’t said much at all over the course of the last hour and some change, but you’d felt his burning gaze on you the whole time. He appeared to be the most opposed to the program you’d presented to the group, but you hadn’t been able to squeeze the reason out of him yet which is why you eventually defer to your hand typed forms. You’d thought it would be a good idea to have them put their thoughts down in writing in case they felt too shy to say it out loud, and you hoped your careful planning would pay off in this.

You’re in the process of handing out the papers to everyone along with the pencils you’d brought along, slowly making your way over to him last, and he tips his head back as if in challenge at your approach. You had a sneaking suspicion who he was, of course, but you still offer him a cheerful smile as you move closer.

“I know you haven’t said much today, but I hope you’ll share any thoughts you have on the form. It’s really helpful to have different perspectives on things like this.” You tell him, holding out the sheet.

“Can’t write.” He rumbles, making your hand falter.

“Oh.” You hadn’t even considered that being a possibility. “I - I’m sorry. Maybe we could see about starting up classes so you can - -“

“Don’t want em’”

You blink at him owlishly, trying to make sense of his surly attitude, but Wriothesley calls over from the other side of the room before you can think of something to say. “Watch yourself, George. I’m not going to give you another warning.”

Ah. So your suspicions were correct.

You start to pull back, decidedly unnerved by the way he clearly wants nothing at all to do with you, but then you see the look that flashes across his eyes. Like a street hardened dog that was ready to bite in retaliation. You almost hate yourself for it, but your heart irreparably softens and you turn your head to send Wriothesley a reassuring look. “It’s alright, your grace. I don’t mind.”

He begins to open his mouth to say something but you whip your head back around, speaking before he can further insert himself into the conversation.

“Please don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know not all of us have been given the same kind of opportunities in life. Where are you from, George?”

The grizzled man sends you a slow look, the muscles in his jaw working with what you think is probably irritation, but you refuse to back down or give up on him. He was still a person deserving of respect and dignity no matter how much he might hate you.

“Fleuve Cendre.” He says at length, and you feel a distant twang of understanding in the back of your mind. The underground sewer systems in the Court of Fontaine were not always the best place to grow up so it made sense, in a way.

“I see. Well, if you’re at all interested I can make every effort to arrange for someone to come teach you how to write, or maybe I could even do it myself. Does that sound like a good idea?”

He suddenly leans forward in his chair, getting right in your face, and it takes everything you have not to go scuttling back though you do give a startled jerk in surprise. “Not a chance! I don’t want your stinking charity, lady!” He practically spits at you, vitriolic and full of malice.

“Charity?” You incredulously echo him, but he reaches out to viciously grab your wrist before you can think of anything else to say.

“That’s right! You think I need you looking down on me or something? How about I tell you exactly where you can shove it instead!”

You open your mouth to say — what, you don’t know, but a shift of motion in your peripheral stops you in your tracks. Snapping your head up, you’re not the least bit surprised to find Wriothesley quickly closing the distance with long, purposeful strides, but it still horrifies you and your heart promptly jackhammers straight up into your throat.

“Wait!” You shriek, holding your uncaptured arm out as if to stop him. Like you even could. He’s like a solid wall moving towards you and you could already see how this was going to play out, your eyes going round as saucers seconds before a violent wrench on your arm takes you right off your feet.

In a sudden rush of movement that you can’t even begin to process or comprehend, you abruptly find yourself pinned to the front of George who’s shot up out of his seat. Wriothesley comes to an immediate halt, just short of being within arms reach, and you stare up at him in unseeing disbelief as George shuffles back to press himself into the corner, using you like a shield. You’re distantly aware of an eruption of chaos in the rest of the room, likely a result of everyone rushing to get out of the way, chairs loudly scraping and clattering against the floor, but you feel strangely numb to it all.

The only thing you can manage to think at that moment is that you were going to be in so much trouble once everything was said and done.

“Don’t touch me, you bastard aristocrat!”

“Wha — h - hold on a minute!” You squawk, feet kicking uselessly at the floor in a blind attempt to find some traction. It’s no use though, and your shoes just slip and slide against the papers you’d dropped in the shuffle.

“I thought we already went over this, George. You know taking hostages isn’t going to get you anywhere except straight into solitary.” Wriothesley intones, and the surprisingly calm, leveled quality of his voice surprises you slightly, prompting you to bring your head back up. But the look you find in his face, the icy heat curling in his eyes, is anything but tranquil, and your stomach twists in dread.

You’d never seen him look like that before … like he could really kill someone.

“I don’t want to hear it!” George snaps, nervously clutching you against him — as if you were going to stop anything! “I’ve had enough of this place, and I’ve had enough of all of you! Always looking down on me like I’m less than dirt!”

“No one is looking down on you.” Wriothesley says, clearly trying to reason with him. “Just calm down and let her go. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting, and I’m sure having your sentence extended didn’t help with that, but this is only going to make things worse for you in the long run. You can’t bargain your way out of this.”

“Maybe so, but I could kill her!”

“You what!” You shriek, nails sinking into the arm pinned across your front, but they both summarily ignore you.

“That’d show you not to mess with me!” George continues on. “I’m serious, you know! I’ll do it!”

“And why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” Wriothesley shoots right back. “If you’re hoping to spend the rest of your life in Meropide you don’t have to do this to accomplish that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“Dammit, I want out of here! I can’t stand this place! No sun, no fresh air, no sky! It feels like I’m going crazy down here!”

“Then let her go. You still have a chance to return to the surface someday and you’ll get to see the sky as much as you want then, but that’s not going to happen if you keep this up. If you extend your sentence much further, you’re just going to seal your own fate. Permanently.”

That actually seems to give him pause, and you hold your breath in anticipation of the pin dropping even when your chest strains and aches in protest. You almost didn’t dare to hope that he would actually listen to reason when you were viscerally aware of all the impotent rage and unrealized frustration coursing through his body, making him shake against you. It didn’t appear to be a bluff, at least not where you were standing. You think he really could kill you if pushed far enough, but … slowly, his hold on you eventually starts to relax.

“I don’t want to be trapped under the ocean for the rest of my life …” He murmurs, a brief glimpse of cognizance returning to him after that manic flash.

“Then hand the young lady over to me and let’s be done with it. I think this has gone on long enough, George.”

Carefully reaching out for you, Wriothesley takes a step forward. His ability to stay cool and collected even in a situation like this surprises you a great deal, of course, but you find some amount of comfort in his unflappable demeanor. It helps you stay calm, in as much as you’re able to at least, and a dull wave of relief washes over you when George reluctantly pushes you away from himself, shoving you straight into Wriothesley’s waiting arm.

You almost don’t believe it as his hand grabs around your waist and tightly gathers you up against him, angling you further from the inmate. It felt like you were dreaming. Numb to everything that had happened over the last few inexplicably short moments, you turn in his hold just in time to watch Wriothesley snag George’s wrist before he can pull it back all the way.

And just like that, he snaps the bone with one solid twist.

The sickening crack! that rings out makes your stomach lurch up into your throat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Slamming Wriothesley’s office door open hard enough to make it bang against the interior wall, you storm inside so mad you could just scream!

He comes in behind you at a leisurely pace just a moment later, taking his time to close and lock it, but you’re a little too caught up in the absolutely blinding surge of anger you’re trying to wrestle with to question it. Seething viciously, you start to pace the perimeter of the room. It’s all you can think to do. You wanted to scream at him, kick him, slap him, spit at him! What was wrong with this man that he would ever think that kind of violence was okay?

“Are you alright?” He eventually asks you, just standing there in the doorway watching you stomp around his office as if it were a perfectly normal sight to see. That evenly tempered, almost blase tone of his voice just makes you see red though, and you finally round on him with a wordless shriek.

“Why did you do that to him?”

“He was dangerous.” Wriothesley says it like it should have been obvious. “I think he made that quite clear, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter! He’d already let me go, you didn’t need to hurt him like that! It was just excessive at that point, you damn brute!”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn't still hurt you. You’re not stupid, little miss. I know you’re aware of just how differently that could have played out if he hadn’t listened to me, and I wasn’t about to risk him changing his mind and having the means to lash out. You’re acting like I killed the poor guy.”

You couldn’t seem to process his logic and, with no other choice, you return to your fitful pacing. “I don’t understand you. It doesn’t even make any sense. You say you care about your inmates but then you turn around and do something like that?”

“I care about you too.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn to look back at him again. The chill that creeps over you is suffocating, threatening to choke you up on the spot. “No. Do not do that. Not right now!”

“But it’s true.”

“I don’t care if it’s true!” You shout, impulsively closing the distance so you can jab your finger into the center of his chest. “You broke that man’s wrist, your grace! That was uncalled for! If you cared about him, or the others, or me you wouldn’t have done something so — so unnecessarily violent! He was just … he was just scared, is all. I think.”

Wriothesley reaches up to carefully take your hand off him and you flinch at the contact but still let him do it because … because you don’t know why. You’re well aware you should be yanking out of his hold like he’d scalded you, skin crawling at just the touch of those rough worn fingers, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do that right now. Not when it felt like you were moments away from shattering to pieces right there in his office.

“You think?”

“I don’t know. Not really, but … he could have hurt me if he wanted to, right? But he didn’t. He only used me like a shield because you were coming, and he panicked. I can’t really blame him for that. I’d be scared too.”

“I bet.” He murmurs, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the backs of your loosely curled knuckles. Grimacing at the gesture, unable to reconcile it in your mind — this soft version of the duke and the brutal prison warden — and you quickly look away. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy with how I handled the situation. I probably did frighten you, and you have my sincerest apologies for that as well, little miss. But you have to understand that I was protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask to be protected!” You seethe. “Least of all like that!”

“Be that as it may, I still did what needed to be done. I already told you once, didn’t I? I’m your guard dog. You were in danger and I acted accordingly. It’s not fair of you to be so upset with me when I was only doing my job.”

“But there must have been another way - -“

“There wasn’t. Believing any different is just naive and childish. You need to let go of this little fantasy you have that everything can be solved peacefully if you’re just nice enough. That’s not how the real world works.”

You jerk your attention up with a low snarl, but he just looks at you with the same unreadable expression as always. He wasn’t the least bit sorry, nor did he feel any real regret for what he’d done. Not only that but he would have done it again without a second's hesitation. You could see it in his face, clear as day. He may as well have been saying it out loud for as little he tries to hide it.

“It doesn’t work with violence either.” You finally rattle out, shaking in his hold.

“I’d say my methods are a bit more effective than yours. You’re safe, aren’t you? If anything, you should be thanking me.”

Your pulse spikes as you wrench your hand free and slap him as hard as you can, popping him right across the mouth. Wriothesley doesn’t even flinch and that just makes you angrier. Going up on the tips of your toes to get as close to him as you’re able to, you hiss at him with every bit of vitriol you can muster. “Is that thanks enough for you, your grace?”

Terse silence descends over the room, interspersed only by your heavy breathing. At length, he finally draws a short, clipped breath.

“I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to apologize for doing that. I do hope you make the right decision.”

Veins turning icy, you bring your hands up to shove at his chest and push yourself away. “You wouldn’t dare. Not right now. Not when I’m so mad at you I could just - -“

He’s on you in an instant.

For someone so big he certainly moves quick, and you barely have enough time to suck in a ragged, gasping breath of air as he roughly grabs under your arms and hauls you right up off your feet. The sudden rush of movement makes you nauseous, your stomach flipping end over end. Throwing your head back, you suck in a mouthful of air to scream.

Wriothesley abruptly drops you back down to the floor before you can follow through and the sudden impact makes sharp, splintering pain race up your legs. That split second hesitation on your part is all he needs to get a hand over your mouth and your eyes go big in wild terror as he all but drags you by the back of your jumper towards the chaise lounge against the far wall. You wrench against his hold like a trapped animal, desperate and mindless as you shriek behind his palm, but the sound comes out muffled. Distant. There’s nothing at all you can do to stop it as he pulls you over and plops down on the cushions before yanking you down to kneel between his feet.

You wince at the way your knees slam against the unforgiving ground but you don’t get a chance to fully process the hurt. He bends over you and reaches back to grab the back of your pants, using them to yank you up and brace you over his thigh. His hand stays locked around your mouth though, making it hard to breathe when you were sucking in quick, panicked gasps, one right after another as you frantically try to shove at him.

His hand abruptly cracks across your ass with enough force to leave you seeing stars, and you wordlessly shriek into his palm. Winded and lurching, you instinctively try to angle away from him but the way he’s got you trapped between his legs makes it impossible to get very far. He hits you again, right on the mark, and hot tears immediately rush up to flood your eyes. Wailing in pain and impotent frustration now, you blindly reach up to shove at his arm.

Wriothesley’s fingers just tighten around the lower half of your face though, securing his hold on you, while the other hand continues to rain down on your bottom in quick, blistering succession. Even through your pants it makes your toes curl achingly tight as you writhe there on the floor, rocking against his leg with each punishing blow.

You couldn’t believe him, doing this to you in a situation like this! It was one thing when you were being bratty or stubborn, or hardheaded, and you’d even come to rather enjoy those intimate sessions with him in which he’d gradually break you down piece by piece before building you back up into a whole, complete person again. It was strangely relaxing, comforting even. Therapeutic. But this was something else entirely. You were mad for a good reason. You’d hit him for a good reason! It wasn’t fair that he could spank your ass red and raw, but you couldn’t even slap him once without incurring his wrath.

So caught up in the tumultuous surge of emotions assaulting you all at once, you almost don’t realize when the tears start tracking down your face. They burn against your heated skin and pool in the seam where his hand is sealed over your face from the nose down, gathering there before eventually dribbling over his blunt knuckles. He has to feel it, has to know you’re crying, practically sobbing, but still he doesn’t stop. He just keeps spanking you, again and again, again, until the throbbing pain scorching across your defenseless backside seems to reach incomprehensible levels that have you struggling just to think through it.

And you try to, desperate to cling to your anger and your fear, the betrayal you’d felt when he broke that poor man’s wrist right in front of your very eyes with hardly any effort at all to show for it. You hadn’t thought him capable. Even now when he was lighting your ass up it seemed like an entirely inconceivable notion for him to be capable of that level of cruelty. But it’s next to impossible to hold onto any of those thoughts or feelings when you were so swept up in the pulsing thrum of hurt he’s inflicting on you and slowly, ever so slowly, your mind starts to go blank.

Evidently feeling you go lax against his knee in acceptance, Wriothesley’s voice starts to drift over you and it seamlessly penetrates the fog hanging over your head to dig straight into your brain. “I’m not sure who you think you are,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “But I have to say,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “I’m actually rather impressed you had the guts to do that,” whap, whap, whap, whap “I suppose that’s why I like you so much though,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “You're so damn bullheaded you just don’t know when to quit.”

Groaning deliriously into the meat of his hand, you mechanically bring your hand down to clutch his pant leg in a death grip while the other blindly stretches back as if to protect yourself from his strikes. He pauses above you as your trembling fingers creep across your bottom, drawing a clipped, mildly annoyed breath.

“Move your hand.”

You wail something that might have been a ‘no!’, incomprehensibly muffled, and he clicks his tongue at the petulance.

“Don’t test my patience with you any further, little girl. You have no idea just how much I can really make it hurt if you want to be cute.”

Noising a sound of surprised confusion, you hastily retract your hand in favor of shoving it up against his stomach and pushing at him with renewed determination, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Leaning forward, he reaches down the front of your body to fumble with the buttons on your pants. You squeal a muffled protest and try to angle away again to no avail. It takes him a prolonged moment to get them with the use of only one hand, but eventually he has your slacks undone and he starts to roughly shove them down your quaking thighs.

“You know,” He says almost conversationally, as calm as ever while your internal panic was just ratcheting higher and higher. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, so let me explain something to you. There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about things, and somehow you always seem to consistently pick the wrong choice. I don’t mind so much that you’re upset with me. I still don’t think that was very fair of you, but you’re entitled to your own opinion. I’m certainly not trying to take that away from you.”

He’s finally got your pants bunched around your knees but, rather than spanking you over your panties next, he instead starts to yank those down too. A violent shudder tears through you at the implication, the suggestion, your blood running so hot for him it has you swaying there on the floor even as you give your head a weak shake. If he was skipping the usual buildup then he must have been rather upset with you indeed.

“But as always you get too carried away. You won’t stop until you push me enough to end up over my knee, getting your butt spanked like a child.” He swats your bare ass for emphasis, making you shriek and sob at the pulsing sting as much as the resulting jiggle it causes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Huh?”

You nod your head frantically, noising behind his hand, and Wriothesley gives your face a dull squeeze of warning.

“I’m going to take my hand away but I promise if you scream you’re going to find yourself getting hit with something much worse than a hairbrush, do you understand me?”

Another nod, even more wild than the last.

Slowly, his fingers loosen and then tentatively fall away, leaving you to gasp wretchedly at the flood of fresh air. You slump against him and try to catch your breath, wet little hiccups making your back bow. “I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — shouldn’t have hit you!”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.”

Forcibly pulling yourself up even though it hurts to do so, you twist on your knees to peer up at him. Your lower lip promptly wobbles when you see the hard way he’s looking at you but you just sniffle and reach up to wipe at your tear stained face. “You made me so mad! And you never take me seriously! I tell you something and it seems like you always just brush me off!”

Wriothesley watches you shake and heave for a drawn out moment before sedately slouching down, elbows shifting forward to brace against his knees so he can lean over you. The gesture makes you feel so incredibly small and insignificant, a borderline hysterical sob bursting out of your mouth which you quickly cover with your hand. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down, but he just hovers over you like that in complete and utter silence until the shudders wracking through you get too uncontrollable and you start to sway dizzily on the floor.

His nearest hand finds your back and smooths over it in comforting circles, wrinkling your jumper in the process. Sucking in a thin, gasping breath, you instinctively rock forward as if to heave but all you do is cough like some sad, pathetic broken little thing.

“Calm down,” He murmurs, giving your trembling shoulders a firm pat. “You’re going to make yourself sick carrying on like that. Will you listen to me?”

Sniveling, you blink through the thick sheen of tears making your vision swim and nod your head with a faint whimper. His hand stills on your back, keeping you in place as he leans further down to your level and tips his head so he can see your face.

“I wasn’t brushing you off. I understand why that upset you and I’m nothing if not sympathetic. Really, I am. If you want the honest truth of it, I regretted it almost as soon as I did it. I’ll have to apologize to George later and have a real long talk with him about what happened, but I’m not going to apologize for protecting you. You’re under my charge regardless of if we’re in the city or your house, but especially when you’re here. If something happened to you on my watch, that would be a resounding failure on my part. Can you understand that much, at least?”

You hesitate and then nod your head again, not quite trusting yourself enough to speak yet. Wriothesley gives you an approving squeeze and another idle pat that makes you whimper softly. His hand was so big it felt like it was taking up almost the whole of your back …

“I didn’t mean to scare you … you know that, right?”

“Y - yes …”

“Good. Because that I will apologize for. It was unnecessary. I should have completely removed you from the situation first before acting but he just had me so mad, I wasn’t thinking straight, and … honestly, I probably owe you an apology for that too I had some reservations about letting him come to the meeting of course, given his track record, but I thought maybe it would help him adjust a little better if he had something from the overworld to keep him busy. Preoccupied.”

Gingerly, you shift on your knees so you’re knelt directly under him rather than braced up against his leg, and you lift your hands to hesitantly slide them across his strong jawline. Wriothesley let’s you do it, much to your thrumming relief, and you carefully tip his face towards you until just a scant breath separates his nose from yours.

“What’s going to happen to him now?”

He just looks at you, and your face slowly starts to crumple.

“Please don’t let him get into trouble.” You plead, unable to bear the thought of his sentence being extended because of you. “It was just a mistake and I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t do anything wrong, your grace! Not really. Please, please don’t punish him.”

Stiffly, he sighs out through his nose. “And there you go being naive again. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to protect him at this point. He’s sealed his own fate.”

“But that’s … that’s terrible! If I hadn’t been there — if you hadn’t let me come here that never would have even happened! I’m the one at fault here, aren’t I? I’ll take the punishment in his stead! That would be fine, right?”

“Lovely girl - -“

Wriothesley reaches out with his other hand to cup your face and you try to pull away, a fresh wave of tears springing up in your eyes, but he holds you fast. Tipping his head, he seals his mouth over yours and swallows down the muffled wail you let out. Even when the rolling beads of moisture start to track down your damp face, he just kisses you and kisses you until you finally start to stir underneath him some indeterminable amount of time later.

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there on the floor but your legs are numb and prickly when you finally move, shifting forward to lean into him. Your breaths are still a little ragged through your nose but you start to kiss him back, tentatively slow at first and then with growing confidence. Growing hunger. The emptiness inside you is quickly filling up with a white hot, molten need, and you groan thickly into his mouth when you feel your pussy give a muted throb of interest. It matches the ever present sting across your ass, in a way, and you feel both in stunning high definition as you carefully raise up to meet him.

Gradually easing back when you find your balance and sit up straight, Wriothesley brings his hands around to cup your ribcage. He squeezes, rucking up your jumper and blouse in the process but, as always, he doesn’t try to relieve you of it. That he was still willing to go about this on your terms, at your pace, fills your chest with a strange helium feeling, and you try to follow after him when he eventually pulls back all the way, whining low in your throat at the loss.

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, tugging you up to stand and you do so with a great deal of haste even when your sore legs threaten to give out under you. Bracing a hand on his broad shoulder to steady yourself, you carefully step out of your sagging pants and underwear when he stoops down to pull them over your feet.

Carelessly tossing your clothes aside, he grabs around your middle again and easily tugs you into his lap. Your heart pounds a wild beat inside your chest when you realize he’s centering you over his leg, and you quickly scramble to get into position. There’s no denying the excitement you feel searing your veins now, the speed at which you’d come to love this particular activity surprising even you. It felt like you were irreversibly addicted to it, and you moan very softly when your bare cunt presses down into his thigh. Pelvis tipping upward, you steal a quick glance down at yourself, still amazed at how broad and thick his leg looks under you. It’s not exactly hard to imagine something else forcing your thighs into a wide spread around him but that still scares a little more than you were willing to admit.

Gently pulling you forward so that your cunt rocks down to settle squarely against his pant leg, Wriothesley gathers you right up against his chest and bends his head to yours again. You moan into the searing hot kiss and bring your hands up to clutch at him, the toes of your shoes bracing on the floor to give yourself leverage as you settle into a slow, mind numbing pace with him.

It truly feels like your brain is melting when the stilted friction on your pussy soon makes you tremble and shake for him, panting heavily into his mouth. You’re distantly aware of the stiff tension in his body but Wriothesley just lets you find your pleasure on him without trying to take advantage of your muddied, intoxicated state. His hands roam over your body in a continuous caress, pinching, squeezing, kneading with rough calloused fingers, but he doesn’t wander to your chest or between your legs. He’d only touched you there once, back in that cramped little alley, but thinking back on it when you were moving with him like this … maybe you should invite him to touch you there again? It would probably feel good, and grinding yourself on his leg was such a slow, tortuous process.

Or maybe you could try touching him?

Turning your head to suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, you take a moment to steady your nerves. You’d never crossed this line before, never been brave enough to take the plunge but, oh, you were so curious and your pussy positively clenches at the thought of feeling him under your palm. You wanted to touch him. You needed to.

“Y - your grace …”

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?” He breathes into the scant pace separating you from him, head tipped back to look at your from this slightly elevated position.

An intense shudder works through you at the thought of actually doing it, of actually saying the words, and you loose a keening mewl as you stubbornly turn your head to look elsewhere. You couldn’t look at him and say it, you just couldn’t!

“Can … ahhn, would it be permissible for me to, um — t - touch you as well?”

His thick fingers give a muted little jolt of surprise where they’re squeezing around your waist, and you tightly screw your eyes shut when he leans in to kiss the side of your neck. “Oh, little miss. You don’t have to ask. You can touch me as much as you want.”

Trembling there on his lap, you hesitate to do it but finally gather enough courage to drag your hand down off his shoulder. Shyly watching the slow descent of it down his broad barrel chest, over his stomach, all the way down to the center of his lap. You give a tiny little jerk when you see the stiff outline pressing up against the interior, the motion of your hips inelegantly stuttering as you take in the shape of it, the size. It was indeed quite large, your heart nearly giving out entirely in your overwhelmed horror, but … but like this it wasn’t quite so bad. Not as scary as if you were perhaps looking at it straight on.

Timidly cautious, you press your fingers over the outline and Wriothesley breathes out a thick, heavy sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a growl. It seems to vibrate through you, pulling a quiet whimper out of your throat, but you force yourself to stay focused. Your curiosity was a little too compelling to get sidetracked now, and even your mindless rutting against him slows to a complete standstill while you feel along the length of him, just familiarizing yourself with the press of it against your hand. Even through his slacks it seems heavy and it’s so incredibly warm that you feel a dull, sympathetic tremor deep inside your cunt.

Evidently realizing just how distracted you were, Wriothesley pulls back from your neck enough to look down at himself as well. “Is it so fascinating?”

“A little bit …”

He laughs, sounding mildly strained. “If you’re curious I’ll teach you about it, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. In this, at least, I’ll play by your rules.”

And he’d done such a good job respecting your boundaries thus far … perhaps it was alright to test the waters some. To give in to this primal urge coursing through your system, making you feel indescribably hot and mindless.

“Would it really fit inside me?”

The hushed noise he makes sounds so wounded it actually startles your attention up, and you take in his pained expression with great big eyes.

“W - what? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. Please don’t start getting defensive, now of all times.” Grunting, Wriothesley grabs under your arms as he shifts back further against the lounge so he can rather gingerly recline back, pulling you right along with him. The careful motion stretches you out across his body to rest against his chest, prompting you to readjust the way you're straddling his thigh to keep your thrumming cunt pressed up tight against it. Letting out a shuddering exhale, he shifts underneath you just so before tipping his face down again. “If you say things like that you’re going to make this go crazy, and I’m not so sure you’re ready for that yet. Try rubbing it, like this.”

You can’t quite stop the squeak of surprise that bursts out of you when he reaches over to grab your stilled hand. Redirecting you to the center of the bulge, he manually squeezes your trembling fingers around him and your skin positively crawls with an eruption of goosebumps when you feel it pulse against your palm. Wide eyed and quaking, you slowly bring your gaze back down to watch him guide your hand up along the rigid length and then back down again. You’d never before seen anything quite like it, but there was a very real, very primitive part of your brain that abruptly clicks on at the sight of it.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” He grunts, still dragging your hand up and down, up and down the length of him. “It feels good. Like when you rub that cute pussy all over my leg. You can squeeze it, if you want.”

Experimentally, you do just that and the responding twitch of Wriothesley’s cock has your cunt repeatedly clamping down on nothing, a harried, deeply frazzled whine rising in you. It was like you were cumming, but not really. You felt close, though. As if just touching him like this, feeling the hot, pulsing need of him in the palm of your hand was stoking your own fire. Building your own pleasure up into something that was very nearly palpable.

More confident this time, you give him another squeeze, and he makes a rumbling, needy sound in the back of his throat. Consumed with your own wanton need, you turn your head to look at him again and a distant thrill of surprise rushes through you when you find those deep sapphires watching you. Not your hand on him, but you.

“Am I really making you feel good, your grace?”

“Very much so.”

Smiling, you lean up to press your mouth to his. He watches you do it, accepts your kiss, and a stilted puff of air rattles out of him to dance over your lips. You’ve never seen him hold himself quite so stiffly before but he starts to kiss you back just a heartbeat later, slowly at first and then with more demanding force behind the motion. Just like every other time he pulls you into his pace with ease, soon dominating the exchange while his hand continues to stroke yours over his trapped cock. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling impatient like this, indescribably needy, and you wriggle yourself down on his leg in search of more friction. Wriothesley gladly obliges you, curling his leg up a little higher to press more firmly into your cunt to make you keen at the sensation.

As you start to ride him again, the hand that had remained carefully on your back this entire time starts to drag lower, tracing the curve of your waist and further still to smooth over your reddened bottom. You suck in a sharp breath at the sting but it just seems to make your pussy clench and drool even more obscenely. Rearing back against his hand, you give his length another tight squeeze to pull a low groan out of him.

“You are a real menace, pretty girl.” He softly chides you, pulling back just enough to look in your face. “For as prim and proper as you like to act, you’re certainly an insatiable little thing.”

You start to apologize for it, but then think better of it. “Do you like it, your grace?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

Your breath catches at that and you lurch on top of him when a warning tremor tears through your shuddering body. “Will … will you bounce your leg against me?”

“Of course.” Eyelids drooping to attractive halfmast, Wriothesley presses his forehead against yours and tenderly nudges at your nose. “Shall I spank you while I do it? Something tells me you’d like that an awful lot.”

“Ooh … yes, your grace, please spank me.”

Another rumbling groan rises in him, eyes drifting shut as if in great pleasure. You don’t get a chance to linger on how positively devastating he looks like that because he presses his thigh up into you, sending you lurching with a faltering, deeply wounded sound. The motion of his leg jostles you slightly, prompting you to clutch at him all the more fervently — one latched around his cock and the other clinging to his neck — and you toss your head back with a high pitched squeal when he suddenly swats your ass without warning. You waver, hesitate for only a blink of the eye, and then you’re driving your cunt down to meet him with fast mounting urgency.

“Oohh, gods —“

Swat! Across the other cheek to make the meaty swell bounce.

A deeply flustered sound punches its way out of your mouth, hips swiveling desperately. “Ahhn, ahh! Y - your grace! Nggnh!”

Swat! The first cheek again, this time with a possessive squeeze afterward that makes your toes curl.

“I’d say I could never get tired of watching you bounce that pretty pussy on my leg, but I’d hate to discourage you from wanting to try anything else.”

Your tense fingers impulsively squeeze down on his cock, making his chest hitch, and you seethe through your teeth at the quickly cresting waves of ecstasy washing over you. You were close, so close.

“Please —“ Swat! Swat! First one cheek and then the next, in rapid succession. “Ooh! God! I - I want it, your grace! I want it!”

Swat!

“What do you want, lovely girl?” Wriothesley grunts, his own voice faltering now.

“I - I want this!” You give his length a desperate squeeze, so lightheaded and dizzy you barely even know what you’re saying anymore.

Swat!

“It’s already yours, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready for it, you’ll have it.”

The thought alone of taking him deep inside your body makes every single muscle in your shuddering frame lock up, and you lurch to a sudden standstill on top of him. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out when he just keeps bouncing his leg on your drooling cunt, quicker now. A little harder. You sway unsteadily as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, chest heaving with the gasps you frantically try to suck in but you can’t quite seem to get enough air. It felt like you were smothering under the intense pressure, hanging right on the precipice.

Swat!

“Cum for me, cum all over my leg and let me see that pretty face you make.” He practically growls, grabbing a tight, pinching handful of your ass to really drive the sting home.

It’s that sharp, toe curling throb of pain that tips you over, and you cum with a gutted lurch. Wheezing, you arch against him so hard your spine aches in protest but you can’t stop it. Your hips judder wildly and your knees nearly give out from how hard it slams into you all at once, but he clutches you tight in his arms while you spasm and writhe, squealing in mindless delight. It’s all you can do just to keep your voice down, painfully aware that the two of you were not in the privacy of your flat, but you manage, somehow, to get through it without shrieking at the top of your lungs.

You’re so exhausted and drained by the time the tremors finally ebb and fade that you collapse on top of him with a deeply frazzled groan. Giving your bottom one final, lingering squeeze, Wriothesley drags his hand back up to rub across your back and a faint shudder ripples through you when you feel him bend close to place a brief kiss to the top of your head.

It was … really nice, actually, sharing such a quiet, intimate moment with him. It wouldn’t be hard to get used to it. In fact, you dully realize, you kind of already were.

“You’re such a good girl for me sometimes.” He murmurs into your hair, his voice warm with praise and affection alike. “It just makes me wonder why you can’t be so good all the time.”

“That would get boring.” You dazedly slur, making him chuckle.

“That’s true. There’s no fun in it without a little power struggle first.”

You hum a noncommittal sound, already half dozed off where you’re spread out on top of him when a muted twitch under your loosely curled palm makes you jolt. Blearily lifting your head from his chest, you glance down to find him still rock hard in his pants and your brows quickly draw together in confusion.

“You didn’t - -“

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away.”

“But - -“

“Hush. Just do as I say for once and let it go.” Reaching up to palm the back of your head, he forces your cheek back down to his chest and holds you there even when you weakly try to struggle out from under it. “You really aren’t making this easy on me, you know that? Saying all that nonsense and now this. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, little miss. Not yet.”

Your mouth pulls in a pout even though he can’t see it. “Will you teach me more later?” It’s little more than a mouse squeak when you were so tired, so exhausted after everything that had transpired today.

Wriothesley seems to think on that for a moment before softly pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll teach you everything in due time. You just need to be patient. I don’t want you to get so caught up in the moment that you rush into something only to regret it later. As I said before, I’m a guarddog. I'm not interested in biting the hand holding my leash.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You aren’t sure when, exactly, you fell asleep, but you wake up on the lounge some time later, finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling of his office in a bit of a daze. You’re a little disoriented at first and then you remember where you were. Everything that had happened. The meeting with the inmates. That horrible incident with George. The sound slap you’d given Wriothesley right across his stupid smug mouth. The way you’d crawled into his lap and …

You bolt upright with a soul sucking gasp. Your instinctive panic is immediately interrupted, however, when you realize his coat is now pooled in your lap, and you blink down at it with owlish surprise. He’d given you his jacket while you slept?

“Ah, you’re finally awake. I was wondering how long you’d be out for.”

Startling, you twist around on the lounge to look over at the desk where you find Wriothesley reading over a small stack of paperwork in his hand while the other lifts a steaming cup of tea up to his mouth. You could smell it from where you were sitting, the rich aroma drawing you a little further out of your half asleep stupor and a bit more into reality. Archons, you felt like you were dying of thirst.

“You wouldn't happen to have an extra cup for me, would you?”

“Of course I do. Don’t be silly.” Setting his own back down after taking a sip, he sedately glances over at you from across the room. “I even grabbed some sandwiches and cookies for you from the cafeteria. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.”

You immediately realize that that was an understatement. You weren’t just hungry, you were famished!

But when you move to get up, pulling his coat off your lap, you abruptly come to a screeching halt. Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you stare down at your bare legs in abject disbelief. “Where are my pants?”

“Don’t sound so alarmed. I put them somewhere safe.”

“Well, I’d like to have them back!” You snap, shooting daggers over at him.

Humming as if in thought, Wriothesley drops the paperwork on top of the desk and reclines back into his chair. “I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. I’m not quite through with you yet.”

A shudder races up your stiffening spine, and you nervously gather his heavy jacket close to your chest, clutching at it. “W - what does that mean? I thought you said you’d let me decide when I was ready?”

He barks a quick laugh. “I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your punishment from earlier. We got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?”

“Oh.” Heaving a long suffering sigh, you roll your eyes and move to stand up. Keeping his coat held to your front, you slowly shuffle over to the desk to stand in front of it. “Is that really necessary? I understand why you had to do it, even if I don’t agree with your methods.”

Idly tapping his finger on the sturdy wood, he just silently studies you for a long moment. “It’s not exactly about agreeing with me.” He says at length. “I’m still waiting on an apology, for starters.”

You promptly shrink in on yourself. “You hit me all the time …”

“No, what I do is spank your bratty little bottom to sort you out. I don’t hit you across the face, and I never would unless you asked me to.”

“Why would I - -“

“Do not try to change the subject. I told you once before that I’m not so easily distracted, didn’t I?”

He tips his head to one side as if to further drive his point home, and you feel your cheeks start to warm. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“Ah, so you have been paying attention then. Good. I know firsthand just how smart you really are so I do expect you to start figuring things out, the more time we spend together. And I do hope that you’ll continue to share more with me.”

You hesitate at the first inkling that something was not quite right here. He was talking about more than just the slap, wasn’t he? But what else could there be that he wanted to talk about?

“I do enjoy spending time with his grace,” You say slowly, warily. “Even if he does make me feel uniquely harassed half of the time. And I’m sorry for hitting you. You’re right that there’s a difference between the two. I tried to hurt you out of anger, while you do it to —“

Wriothesley chuckles when you search for the word only to come up empty handed, the smile tugging at his mouth equally roguish and charming. “To correct you. I can’t deny that you can be a little frustrating sometimes, but I’m sure the same can be said of me. In fact, I know it can. But I don’t hit you in anger. Not when I’m nearly double your size and weight. To allow my self control to slip even slightly would be … reckless indeed, because I could seriously hurt you. I’m always careful to make sure I’m fully aware of what I’m doing and how hard I’m doing it before I ever put my hands on you, little miss. I hope you know that.”

Your back straightens when it suddenly hits you. That’s what he was worried about?

“Are you afraid I won’t want to see you anymore after the way you … broke George’s wrist earlier?”

A long stretch of quiet settles over the office, perfectly still and perfectly quiet.

“A little.” He says at last. “I couldn’t exactly blame you if that was the decision you came to, but I’d still be a bit — disappointed to lose you. A lot, actually. I enjoy our time together too.”

You swallow. Hard. “Your grace, I … I won’t deny that you scared me earlier, but it’s not like it was the first time. You’ve made me nervous and frightened, and happy, and sad, and so incredibly confused I could just tear my own hair out sometimes, but — I was more frightened for George than myself, if I’m being honest. I was scared you were going to hurt him.”

“And then I did.” He says simply, and you nod.

“Yes. Frankly, I was horrified. That’s why I got so mad at you. I never thought you’d actually be capable of something like that, and I guess I didn’t really know how to react. But you’ve never made me feel like I was truly in danger. I’ve never worried about you breaking my arm, or snapping me in half even though I’m sure you easily could. I’m not scared of you, your grace. I just … I don’t want to see you hurt anyone else, least of all because of me.”

He lets that settle for a drawn out beat, clearly turning everything over in his head, before decisively leaning forward to grab up the teapot sitting on a tray at the corner of the desk. “Well, I can’t exactly promise you that. Should the need ever arise again, I won’t hesitate to protect you. Especially if it’s one of my inmates trying to cause you harm. But with that being said,” He starts to pour out a second cup, also taken off the tray. Your eyes voraciously wander over to the little plate covered with a tin lid, knowing there were promised sandwiches and cookies hiding underneath, and your stomach churns in hunger. “I solemnly swear that from here on out I will do everything in my power to avoid it ever coming to that. If we can stop it from reaching that point then surely both of us will be satisfied. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise to you?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Excellent. Then come sit on my lap and help yourself to some food and tea. I’m sure you’re starving.”

For once you only feel slightly hesitant to heed his command without needing to be told twice, and you eagerly shuffle around the desk to join him. You’re able to hide the nudity of your lower half behind his coat which you keep tucked around your waist even as you get settled on his legs. It was a seat you were quickly (perhaps even embarrassingly so) getting used to, and the thick arm that snakes around your middle to secure you in place was likewise becoming something comfortably familiar as well.

The first thing you reach for is the plate, stretching across the desk to pull it closer so you can peel away the lid and find out what’s inside. A handful of neatly sliced sandwiches of a few different varieties greets you, as well as a small pile of assorted biscuits. You don’t hesitate to snag one up and pop it into your mouth, humming in delight at the taste. Chuckling softly, Wriothesley gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as his other hand slides over to pick up the abandoned stack of papers again.

“Are you aware just how adorable you can be at times?”

Humming in agreement, you covetously go for a sandwich next. “His grace flatters me.”

“Brat.” Giving your tummy an affectionate pinch, he turns his attention to the papers. “Another question, if you would be kind enough to humor me. Are you aware that you’ve earned yourself a few fans here in the prison?”

You freeze in place with the dainty little triangle lifted half of the way to your waiting mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

“Belle, the woman at the meeting earlier, slipped this note into my mailbox some time ago. She apologizes for what happened with George, and she wishes you a speedy recovery with hopes that you’ll return soon to start your sewing classes. You’re welcome to read it for yourself if you’d like.”

Slowly, you lower the sandwich and reach out for the paper. You’re more than a little surprised to find it says exactly what he’s relayed to you. “Wha — but I don’t understand?” Dropping the sandwich altogether now, you numbly flip to the next page only to find a second letter written in two different but equally terrible sets of handwriting. Those brothers.

“Don’t pay them much mind.” He murmurs as you scan over the, frankly, perplexing note. “They’re trouble, but mostly harmless. I won’t go so far as to say they mean well, but …”

Thoroughly perplexed, you flip to the final page. This one is rather neat and tidy, and relievingly concise, but you can’t quite place who it would have come from. All it says is that they hoped you wouldn’t be scared off by what happened, and that they looked forward to the program being a resounding success. It was of course very flattering but rather unexpected. A bit confounding, if you were being honest.

“Who wrote this one?”

“His name is Gaspard. You probably didn’t notice, but he was making puppy dog eyes at you the whole time.”

Flustered heat promptly crawls up your neck to settle deep in your cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor leaves much to be desired, your grace?”

“Oh, I’m actually being quite serious. I thought for sure if I was going to have to pry someone off you it was going to be him.”

Another teasing pinch at your waist accompanies that and you sigh out through your nose, trying very hard not to let his foolishness distract you. “May I ask what he’s serving time for? This handwriting looks very well practiced, and his spelling is perfect.”

With a quiet hum, Wriothesley leans to the side to brace his chin in the palm of his hand. “He’s in for embezzlement.”

“Embezzlement!” You squawk, beyond horrified. “B - b - but if it’s the man I’m thinking of, he was so polite and quiet! I thought he was just shy so I didn’t want to draw too much attention to him!”

“Those are the ones you have to watch out for the most.” He laughs. “You’ll learn that in due time. The ones like George are mostly all bark and no bite, unless you back them into a corner. Gaspard’s type is way more dangerous because you can never be quite sure what they’re thinking.”

More than just a bit ruffled, you defensively clutch the small stack of letters to your chest. “So then I suppose that would put you in the latter category?”

“Hm … I suppose it would.”

With a click of your tongue, you set the papers aside and primly return to your sandwich. “Regardless, I think it’s clear how we should proceed. We need to get a seamstress out to the prison as soon as possible for Belle, and I’m sure we can find a willing chef for those two troublemakers as well.” You pause with the little triangle almost up to your mouth again, hesitating a moment before slowly lowering it once more. “That is — if you’d still like to work with me going forward. I’m sure you probably have some reservations after what happened today, but I promise I’ll be more cautious next time and - -“

“Hush. I’m not going to take it away from you like a toy you’re not allowed to play with anymore. You’ll still have your little program and I’ll still work with you to help you implement it. You’ll just have to be a bit more closely supervised with it going forward.”

“… you are truly detestable sometimes.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Wriothesley thankfully lets you eat in peace after that, and your stomach is quite glad for it. You happily scarf down two sandwiches and another cookie to go with your cup of tea, but you quickly begin to feel full. Eventually, you find yourself leaning back against his chest with your head resting along his shoulder, and you just quietly watch him work through a different stack of papers, this one much more formidable than your measly pile. You were going to cherish them forever though, even had half a mind to go out and have them framed immediately, but that seemed a little excessive, even for you.

The intimate atmosphere and the close proximity with him almost has you dozing again, but the large hand idly rubbing over your tummy keeps you more or less grounded in reality, you sigh, very softly, when he eventually gives you an attention grabbing pinch some indeterminable amount of time later.

“You’re not falling asleep on me again, are you?”

“No, your grace. I am only resting.”

“Good.” He says rather amicably, setting the sheet in his hand down. “Because there’s still the matter of your punishment to go over.”

Groaning, you let your head loll back against his shoulder to look up at the ceiling. “You really never let anything go, do you?”

“It would be remiss of me if I did. More importantly though, I wanted to show you something. Do you remember what I said earlier, about getting spanked with something much worse than a hairbrush?”

You immediately lurch on top of him, skin crawling at just the thought as you try to jump up off his lap and escape, but Wriothesley just tightens his arm around you to keep you pinned even when you inelegantly flail. “Wait — that’s not fair, your grace, I — ow!”

The hard slam of your knee against his desk has you whimpering in pain, and he quickly takes advantage of that stunned moment to haul you back and secure you more firmly in place. “That’s what you get for jumping to conclusions. Let that be a lesson to you.” Sighing, he presses his mouth to the top of your head in a lingering kiss while you try to shake out the hurt from your leg. “Troublesome girl.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you right now!” You snip, still rubbing at your bruised knee. “And what were you even talking about? I don’t think I deserve to be struck with a stick or a measuring rod, or — or - -“

“You don’t, you’re right about that. But I want to show you what comes after the hairbrush, if you’ll let me. I’d like to think having that knowledge in the back of your mind might give you enough incentive to make better decisions in the future, but given how hard headed you are … maybe it won’t.”

Huffing, you petulantly cross your arms. “You only want to show me?” You didn’t trust it at all. Not one bit.

“I planned to actually strike you with it, of course. Otherwise it would just be an empty threat and you’d have no baseline to gauge how far you’re willing to go just to throw a fit over something. But how about this? I’ll make you a deal. You like when I do that, don’t you?”

You were loath to admit it out loud but you did indeed, and your pussy slowly clenches with interest. Damn him straight to the abyss and back. “I’m listening.”

“Good girl. I figured you would be.” Another kiss pressed to the top of your head, his breath displacing some of the flyaways there. “You get to choose then. Would you like me to round off your punishment with my hand and twenty strokes of the hairbrush, or would you prefer to take six from the mystery implement?”

Twisting around in his hold, you look up at him in abject shock. “Only six?”

“Only six.” He confirms.

“And you won’t tell me what it is first? Is it really that bad?”

“No, and no. It’s just a different kind of pain, is all. Something you aren’t used to. I strongly suspect if I told you beforehand, you’d be too frightened to take it on and would instead gladly subject your poor bottom to a much worse fate than it needs to suffer.” Drawing a stilted breath, Wriothesley slips one of his hands under the jacket to caress along your bare thigh, warming the skin under his palm. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already been appropriately corrected. There’s no need to actually take you over my knee unless you leave me with no other choice. The second option is preferable for both of us, first and foremost because I intend for it to be a warning more than anything. The choice is yours though, little miss. I am but at your beck and call.”

You snort at that and pin him with a wry look. “Sure. I might believe that when pigs fly.” With a shake of your head, you turn back around so you can slump against him, listlessly picking at the fur trim on his jacket in your lap while you think it over. One was obviously the better sounding choice but … didn’t that mean it was a trap?

Big, burly arms squeezing around you, Wriothesley bends close to kiss your temple, your cheek, down to your neck. They’re soft and fleeting, decidedly, chaste, and yet they still make your pulse start to thrum a little faster. You really were regrettably weak for him. It just wasn’t fair.

“May I add an extra term onto our deal?”

“Let’s hear it.”

“If I choose the second option, will … will you play with me afterward?”

He seems to hesitate against you, no doubt catching onto your meaning. “I was planning on doing that anyway. I always make sure you get rewarded at the end, don’t I?” A lingering kiss pressed into your temple.

You were really starting to become hot and flustered again, and it shows in the way your voice strains slightly. “I don’t mean like that. I — I think I want you to touch me, your grace.”

This time he really does go still. A long beat of quiet punctuates the moment, and then he shifts against you, speaking across the side of your face. “Where do you want me to touch you, pretty girl? Between your legs?”

Just hearing him say it makes you shudder from your head straight down to your toes, and you fitfully twist on his lap so you can tip your head back to look at him. “Everywhere, sir. Between my legs and — my chest too. If you want.”

“Of course I want to, silly thing.” Breathing out a rather terse exhale, he tips his head to kiss your mouth but it is regretfully short lived, and you whine softly when he retreats again. “I need you to clarify something for me first though, so I know exactly what it is you’re comfortable with. Do you want to get completely undressed for me or would you rather I touch you through your shirt?”

“O - oh.” You hadn’t thought about it that far, and you shyly avert your gaze. Although you did want to feel his hands on your breasts, the thought of being completely nude with him was a daunting one indeed. It was silly, of course, but that seemed like something of a big step and a potentially awkward one at that. “I … I don’t know if I’m ready to get naked yet so — through my shirt?”

“Through your shirt it is.” He agrees, pressing his mouth to your cheek in a hard, reassuring kiss. It makes you squirm, just a little bit, how willing he is to humor you in this way, but you think that it probably means more to you than you even fully realize. “You’re a good girl, you know that?” He murmurs against your skin. “I’m so proud of you for being honest with me. I know that’s not always easy for you to do.”

“Enough already.” You huff in embarrassed fluster, making him chuckle.

“Don’t start getting cranky. I don’t want to have to really spank you if I don’t have to.” Finally, he pulls all the way back to give you some space, patting your leg under the jacket. “Alright. Stand up and put your hands on the desk for me. We’ll do this standing up.”

Suddenly confused, you hesitate just a moment before rocking forward with no shortage of hesitation. He didn’t often strike you while standing. Usually only when he was made to grab you to stop you from scuttling away and a chair or other wasn’t readily available …

You try not to think about that too hard though as you find your feet with his coat somewhat awkwardly clutched to your front still. He reaches around to take it from you and you reluctantly let it go, shivering when it falls away to leave you bared from the waist down. Shuffling forward a step, you then reach out and slowly place your hands palm down on the desk while he stands up behind you, pushing the chair further back to allow for some space.

Wriothesley presses up close behind you then, making a fresh shudder work down your spine as he leans over you to gently reposition your palms a little further apart. He reaches down to take your waist next so he can carefully bend you forward with your legs squared, nice and firmly rooted. You aren’t quite sure what to make of it all but his hands feel decidedly nice on you, and you just sigh very softly when he moves back. The following moment or two of rustling further leaves you stumped, especially when you catch a soft metallic click on the air, and you have to try very hard not to turn around and look. He seemed quite sure whatever it was would startle you a great deal but …

When he eventually comes up beside you again, you turn your head to look at the hand he holds out towards you. Your brows make a prompt, very expeditious trip up to your hairline.

“Wha — y - your belt, sir?” You warble out on a squeak, genuinely flabbergasted by this revelation.

He chuckles faintly, snapping your wide eyed attention up at him so fast it nearly makes your head spin. “That look on your face is exactly why I didn’t tell you outright but it sounds worse than it actually is. At least the way I’m going to do it is.”

“W - which would be?” You ask, nervously glancing at the folded over strip of leather with a great deal of fast mounting horror.

“We’ll start off slow and work our way up in intensity, but even by the end I won’t be using too much force. My goal isn’t to actually hurt you, just teach you. See, the thing about this is it covers a wider area. I can strike you across both cheeks in one swing, and the relative flexibility of the leather means it carries a sharper sting with it as well. I don’t think it’ll take much to have you dancing on your toes, so I probably won’t even end up using a fraction of my strength when all is said and done. Does all of that sound agreeable to you, little miss?”

You work to swallow down your nerves and almost choke on it. “I … I suppose so. But — if I really can’t take it, will you stop?”

“Of course I will. I have no interest in brutalizing you or anything of the sort. That being said though I’m confident that you’ll do just fine. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

A wholly mirthless laugh punches out of your throat. “I’m really not sure about that, your grace.”

“Then let’s find out.”

Transfixed, you follow the motion of the folded over belt when he lifts it in one hand and then slaps it down into the waiting palm of the other. You startle at the loud, meaty whap! and suddenly your blood turns to ice. You can feel yourself slipping under alarmingly fast, whatever the incomprehensible shroud was that blanketed your mind every time you ended up in these situations with him, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to do much to shield you from the full brunt of it in this particular instance.

Trying very hard not to shake when he steps behind you, you tip your face down to stare blankly down at the desk. The tension thrumming through your body is thick enough to suffocate and nauseatingly cloying. Just thinking about him hitting you with that was enough to make you sick …

“Oh, and just a word of advice.” He tacks on, standing about a step behind you by the sound of it. “Try to breathe through it as much as you can. That will help more than anything else.”

“… yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

His fingertips brush across your ass then, and you jolt so hard you almost come right up off the floor. Wriothesley just takes a moment to coo at you though, chiding you softly for being so jumpy, but it was a little hard not to be! You felt like you were going to vibrate right out of existence, and the heavy weight of nervous anticipation was not making it any better. You’re such a mess of nerves and sharp adrenaline that you barely even notice the way your skin prickles under his hand, still hot to the touch and tender from your earlier spanking, and you wince slightly as he rubs over your bottom. It seems like a cruel thing to do, getting you sensitized and warmed up for his belt like this.

“I’m going to start.” He finally warns you as his hand retreats, and you immediately brace for the deafening crack and the splintering pain to go with it.

To your flinching surprise, however, the belt just lightly swats across your bottom with a soft little pap! and you absolutely hate the way you still violently lurch, having expected much worse. Your cheeks immediately flood with heat as he laughs softly behind you at the big reaction.

“I told you we’d work our way up. That’s one. Count for me, pretty girl.”

You obediently open your mouth but you only make it so far as drawing a breath to respond when the belt slaps across your ass, a little harder this time. You notice the sting he’d mentioned immediately, as well as the insidious reach it has across the swell of both cheeks, but all it does is make you rock forward on your toes a bit. You’d never admit it out loud to him, but he was right. This wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be.

And that was precisely why you didn’t trust it.

“… two, sir.”

“Good girl. Your bottom looks mighty cute like this, by the way. I think I could get used to seeing you bent over my desk.”

You clench your teeth, half in annoyance and half to brace for the next hit. If they kept steadily increasing like that …

Whap!

This one subtly jerks you forward with the impact and you wheeze over the desk, trying and failing to process just how sharp the sting really is. It leaves you dizzy, a bit stunned in the aftermath as prickling fire welts up over the swell of your bottom. It has your toes curling in their shoes, skin crawling with needle pinpricks as you work to steady yourself. Okay, that was marginally worse than his hand but still not quite as bad as the hairbrush.

“Ooh … three, sir …”

“You’re doing very well so far. What do you think of it?”

You weren’t entirely sure you were properly equipped to answer that question at the moment, but after a short beat of consideration you finally say, “I see what you meant. It’s a different kind of pain, but it’s not terrible.”

“It could be.”

You snort. “I bet it could.”

Wriothesley shifts behind you making you instinctively brace for the next hit, but it never comes. Instead, he speaks again after a drawn out pause. “Do you really trust me not to get carried with it, and to know your pain threshold better than you do?”

That seemed like an odd question to ask after all this time, but you decide you can humor it as you readjust your feet with a quick shuffle. “I do, your grace. You push me sometimes but you’ve never actually crossed that line. Until you do, I trust you.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He murmurs, a note of humor in his voice now. “Incidentally, I think you should know that I trust you as well. I suppose that makes us even.”

A dull trickle of surprise washes over you, but before you can fully process what he’d said the next strike comes with a considerably louder crack and it startles an ‘oh!’ out of you. Rocking forward on your toes, seething, you gingerly shift your weight from one side to the other but it does absolutely nothing to dispel the throbbing strip across your backside. It really was insidious how it could catch the meatiest parts of your ass in a single blow, and you carefully try to stretch it out with a dramatic curve of your spine.

“That’s quite a show you're putting on for me right now, pretty girl.” Wriothesley drawls in a low tone that sounds like silk in your pounding ears. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your top off? I’m already seeing quite a lot …”

Whimpering faintly, you shyly squeeze your thighs together and straighten slightly. “Don’t be a pig …”

“My apologies. It’s so easy to forget my manners when you’re presenting such a cute pussy to me like that. I’ll be sure to mind myself.”

“Ooh … will you touch it, your grace?”

“Yes. Gladly. But only after we’re done.” He says. Then, much more softly, “It will be a reward for the both of us.”

You draw a steadying breath and force your constricting lungs to expand with it as you carefully resume the position he’d put you in, or something close to it. “Four, sir.”

“Good girl.”

This time you know the swing is coming because you can hear the displacement in the air, and it seems to catch you in a particularly vulnerable spot, because you dance up on your toes with a frazzled yelp. The sting of unshed tears in your eyes quickly joins the splintering sensation across your decidedly sore bottom, and you sniffle rather sadly at the hurt. You understood now why he’d set the count to six, and you were immensely glad for it.

“F - five, sir …”

Wriothesley’s hand abruptly finds your shuddering back and you jolt before stiffly relaxing into his touch. Gently, reassuringly, he drags that massive palm across you in slow, coaxing circles. “There, you’re almost done. I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the last stroke.”

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse, but you take a moment to collect yourself, just taking slow, deep breaths, just like he’d said to. It does help, a little bit, but the searing line across your ass is very hard to ignore. You were undoubtedly scared of what was coming and, yet, his steady presence at your side was a comforting one. You could do this. You knew you could. Not for him, but because of him.

Gingerly easing your body out of its defensive hunch, you carefully move back into position again. “I’m ready, sir.”

Your first sign that this was going to be awful is the fact that Wriothesley keeps his hand braced against your middle back and just shifts to the side. Your second is the sharp sound of it cutting through the air.

Whap!

Pain explodes across your entire body unlike ever before. You lurch with a wounded, faltering animal sound, unable to even scream, it was that bad! Your knees instantly turn knobbly and you practically collapse with a strained, gasping sob, but he’s right there to catch you. So lost in the swimming daze of blind agony, you barely register him holding you around the waist to keep you upright and somewhat steady, but the soft press of his mouth against your shoulder somehow still manages to catch your attention. It pulls you back into the physical world, bit by bit, at a sluggish pace, and the sound of his crooning voice soon penetrates the numbing fog to mist over you.

“— such a good girl, I’m so proud of you for taking that so well. You didn’t even scream, and I thought for sure you would on the last one. Do you have any idea how much strength that took? You’re such a precious thing.”

Groaning dizzily, you slowly start to straighten up under his helpful guidance, and you don’t protest when he gently steers you back towards the chair with a hiccuping mewl. You’re glad for it, in fact. You just wanted to crawl into his lap and cling to him for the rest of the day. Night? You weren’t even sure what time it was. How long had you fallen asleep for?

You feel well and truly delirious as he sits down and gets situated behind you before reaching back up to tug you into his lap, and you viciously seethe the moment your throbbing ass brushes his pants. Making a valiant effort to arch up off him and escape the pressure, you openly sob when he just pulls you right down. You writhe at the pain, twisting in his arms but then — you abruptly realize where his hands are headed.

Choking on a stuttering gasp, you tip your tear stained face down with a confused little whimper to watch his palms drag up the front of your body, further rucking and irreparably wrinkling your jumper in the process. They smooth over the curve of your breasts and then pause to give them a savory squeeze, and you shudder intensely at the sensation. You’d never been touched like this before. Not by anyone, and it surprises you how sensitive your chest is under the weight of his hands. Your nipples immediately spring up even under your clothes, and you fitfully turn your head to rest across his shoulder with a half strangled wail.

“These feel so good in my hands, pretty girl. Is this what you wanted me to do? Hm?”

Screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of so many sensations all at once — the pain and the pleasure so horribly intermingled that you could hardly tell them apart anymore — you offer a quick, jerky nod. “Mhm!”

Wriothesley breathes out a terse sigh against the side of your head and nuzzles further into you while his hands keep fondling your breasts. “Good. They seem sensitive. There are a lot of fun things we could do with that information, you know. I have a few — toys you might be interested in later. Do you like having your pretty tits played with? You certainly look like you do …”

Whining low in your throat, you shudderingly arch to shove your chest further out, and he takes advantage of that to squish them up and together. A deeply frazzled moan rattles out of you when he jostles them for a brief moment before letting them go so that they bounce back into place. He groans, very softly, as he quickly cups around the swell of them again, just holding them in his palms for a moment while he bends close to kiss you.

You’re sinking alarmingly fast, much too fast to make any sense of it, and you clutch at his shirt in a fitful, twisting death grip. He doesn’t even seem to notice, just hungrily kissing you for a tortuously long stretch before eventually pulling back with a stilted exhale. Meaningfully, he sends his gaze lower and you follow his lead, slowly looking down at yourself just to find your tits straining up even through two shirts and a brassier. You issue a low, wounded sound, watching through the impossibly heavy fall of your lashes as he brings his hands up to delicately pluck at the stiffened buds. That alone is almost too much, both the sensation and the visual, but he really starts to tug on them.

“You like that, do you?” He chuckles at all your sensitive quivering. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m more of an ass man myself, but these are nice too. Very nice, indeed. They fit so nicely in my hands, almost like they were made for them. And your nipples … oh, sweet girl, are you going to cum just from having me play with them?”

That didn’t seem to be as much of a preposterous suggestion as you would have otherwise thought when you were currently wrestling with the thrumming tension that spikes through your body. You’d never felt quite so hot or overly sensitive, and you keen at the growing need threatening to swallow you whole.

Evidently catching on, Wriothesley drags one of his hands down across your front, over your belly and straight down to dip between your trembling thighs. You feel him experimentally touch over your slit for a brief moment, familiarizing himself with it, before pressing his fingers into meaty lips to spread them. You rock violently in his hold and instinctively curl your legs out wide even when they weakly twitch in the air, keeping them spread for him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in your punch drunk state of mind, but it shocks a flustered yelp out of you when he slips in to tease over your clit. It has you twitching, twisting and writhing against him for everything you’re worth. The calloused pad on the tip seems to catch at soft flesh even with the excessive slick coating you and he tauntingly nudges at the delicate little pleasure button, just drawing it back and forth, up and down for a moment, before starting to press down more firmly. You promptly go cross eyed, lurching in his lap with a gutted moan.

The direct contact felt so good … so good you could hardly even stand it, and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. You liked rubbing yourself on his thighs. Thought you’d liked that the most and that you couldn’t like anything else better — but this was overwhelming your already cotton stuffed head alarmingly quick, and the way he continues to pluck at one of your nipples did not seem to be helping you in the slightest. You were going to vibrate right off him if he kept that up!

“Y - your grace! Ooohhnnggh!”

“Do you enjoy that, little miss? Hm?” He nuzzles against the side of your head, pressing idle kisses to your temple again.

“Ahhnn … yes! I do, your grace! I - I feel like I’m gonna’ — oohh!”

With a soft chuckle that makes his chest vibrate against your back, Wriothesley reaches across to the other breast to give it a savory, pinching knead. Fitful and needy, you impulsively reach down with trembling hands to grab the hem of your jumper so you can yank it up to bunch under your chin. He obliges you by grabbing at your tit again, through just the thin layer of your blouse now, and you somehow manage to shake even harder when he digs his fingers in to tug at the brassier underneath. It’s hard to do indirectly like this and he jostles you slightly with the effort, but you still feel the exact moment your stiff teat slips out of the top of the cup and you just shake even harder.

“I bet you do. Such a sensitive little girl you are …” Pulling in a carefully tempered breath, he abandons that tit much to your blubbering disappointment and reaches over to do the same to the other. Pinching through fabric to grab at the lacy material underneath and nudge it down enough to leave both nipples cutting up directly into the fabric of your shirt. You writhe on top of him with a back bowing shudder and blindly grab at him, his arms, his shirt, the now rumpled collar of his button up, whining a low plea. “Hush. I’ve got you. Bring your hands up for me and wrap them around my neck. Think you can do that for me?”

Offering a stilted nod, you do as he’d asked without question or even much thought to the matter. Later you might wonder why you’re so obedient and pliable with him like this, but in the heat of the moment you find nothing but pleasure, and deep satisfaction at the rumbling noise of approval he gives you when your arms stretch up to curl over his shoulders in a loose hold. The position proves a bit awkward when you can’t get a very good grip on him, but the reason for it quickly makes itself known. Your tits lift under your shirt with the upward motion to jut further out, and his blocky hand quickly descends upon one, pinching the tightly coiled teat to leave you moaning in equal parts distress and delight.

“Ooh, isn’t that a lovely sound? You really are going to be the death of me … let me show you something nice now. You’ll like it, I promise.”

The blocky fingers on your clit slowly retreat and you hiss at the loss only to choke on it a heartbeat later when he firmly presses them over your slit. He gives them a sedate rub and your pelvis involuntarily jumps, pressing up into them with a juddering twitch, eager for more. Desperate for it.

“There, now move with me, pretty girl. Just like you do when you’re grinding this sweet pussy on my leg … that’s it, move your hips. Back and forth. Just follow the motion of my hand — see, you’ve got it. Keep going and don’t stop until you’re shaking for me.”

You suck in a thick, heavy gasp as you bring your swimming attention back down to look at the way you’re spread open on top of him. The wide stretch of your legs is shameful and a little embarrassing even now, but your cunt looks so small and dainty rubbing against his big hand while your thighs quack around it and you can’t quite bring yourself to care about it right now. Wheezing, you rock your pelvis up to follow the friction of his rough fingers before swiveling back and — you outright choke when your sore ass grinds down on him in the process. The faintly raised welts seem to crawl and sting with renewed fervor at the brush of his pants, the hard press of his cock digging up into you in search of the hot, wet warmth between your legs. Your pussy squeezes wildly at the sharp pain, drools yet more sticky slick to coat you in an obscene amount of liquid arousal, and you quickly do it again. Up against the firm pressure of his hand and then back again to rub your sore bottom on him.

It doesn’t take long for you to start quaking in earnest like this and you cling to him desperately as the tension in your body rapidly swells, threatening to bowl you right over if you weren’t careful. But as always Wriothesley’s hold on you is absolute, and you’re free to shake and twist as wildly as you want without having to worry about falling. The hand on your chest alternates between your breasts, squeezing, pinching, tugging at your nipples, each in turn, to leave them feeling raw and sensitized through your shirt while the other keeps guiding your pelvis through the stuttering motion. Maintaining it becomes more difficult with the steady locking of your muscles as warning tremors wrack through you, but he remains an ever steady presence around you and it’s so easy to get lost and swept up in his pace.

Your cunt tilts up against his hand and then your ass nudges back to make dull throbs of pain erupt across your bottom.

Up against his hand with a sticky glide that does absolutely nothing to stop his rough skin from dragging against petal soft folds, then back to feel the weight of him digging into sore flesh that burns at the friction against his slacks.

Up against his hand, back against his cock.

His hand, his cock.

Wriothesley’s hand and Wriothesley’s cock.

The coil snaps. Just like that.

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you wail through your soul shattering release as quietly as you can manage. You seethe, you hiss, you groan, low and faltering. You squeal and you wheeze, bucking uncontrollably with a frantic desperation that he takes in stride. His hold on you doesn’t falter, and he neither grunts or flinches even when you spasm on top of him without heed. He’s like a solid wall underneath you, and he pets you through it all until you finally, at last, start to come down from it some moments later one jagged piece of you at a time.

Going boneless with a haggard noise of deep sated pleasure, you just lay there for a long while and let him caress over you to leave pleasantly warm tingles in the wake of his hands. It’s comfortable like that, there with him. Sitting in the stillness of his office in the buzzing afterglow of release, simply listening to each other's heartbeats for a long time. He was right to say this was something he could get used to, because you could too.

And strangely enough that thought doesn’t frighten you half as much as it probably would have at one time.

“You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” Wriothesley says at last, finally interrupting the quiet.

Snuggling deeper into his body with a content little sigh, you tip your head back to look up at him from just a scant few millimeters away. “You’re very good to me as well, you’re grace. T - … thank you for that.”

A slow smile tugs at his mouth to accompany the almost wry quirk of his brow. “Oh, am I now? Well, you’re very welcome, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t half expect a different sentiment.”

You frown at that, unable to stop it. “You are easily the most frustrating, blockheaded man I have ever met, and I won’t deny that, but you — you’re kind to me, aren’t you? In your own strange way.”

“I try to be.” He relents, his gaze drifting lower to fix upon your mouth. You can tell he’s thinking about kissing you again by the way his eyelids droop to attractive halfmast, but you reach up to cup the strong ridge of his jaw before he can follow through on it.

“Can I … be kind to you as well, sir?” You give your butt a pointed little wiggle down onto the hard length straining under you, and his brows draw together as if in great discomfort.

“As much as I would like that,” He intones rather thinly. “And for as much as I am tempted, I would rather teach you about that somewhere a bit more appropriate than in my office. At your home. In the comfort of your own bed, if you would permit it, sounds ideal to me.”

You hesitate to respond just a moment too long, still a little overwhelmed at the thought of sharing your bed with him despite the eager thrum you feel at the suggestion, and he takes the chance to gather you against him in a tight squeeze.

“There isn’t any rush, sweet girl. Whenever you’re ready, you will have me. I just want to ensure you receive the care and attention you deserve first and foremost, and I also want you to feel safe. Your bedroom will represent that final boundary and when you’re prepared to invite me into your life like that, that is when I will take you. That sounds fair enough, doesn’t it?”

You want to tell him you are ready, that you want him now, you’re sure of it. Your body and mind alike both seem to crave the intimacy of skin on skin contact with him, while your heart …

Oh, you simply couldn’t think about that right now.

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur instead of any number of other things you could have said to him, wanted to say to him. Needed to say. “That sounds fair.”

“Good.” Wriothesley gives you a reassuring pinch to make you squirm slightly in his arms. “Then I think with that settled it’s about time you and I considered making things somewhat official. Do you think you can stand to be seen with me in public in a non professional capacity for an hour or two?”

Going still against him, you frantically try to parse what he’s asking, what he’s getting at. Make it official? “What do you mean, my lord? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, little miss. On a date.”

Your face instantly lights up like a firework. A date? With the Duke of Meropide himself?

Oh, but you suddenly felt terribly faint.

“I … I think I’d like that, your grace. Thank you.”

“Wonderful. Then that is what we will do.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #self insert bullshit

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sm-baby · 3 months

Note

"Freakshow!Caine gonna get destroyed"

"(Detailed or even just snippets of explaining why he'd hold his weight and why he holds a title of god already if this base was weak he'd be in no position of power he's in now he is Not weak)"

"Oh no ): Carnival!Pomni doesn't actually stand a chance"

You guys need to adopt some more complex understandings they can both be op as hell Especially in different ways making their strengths and weaknesses more unique and a challenge to overcome in each other's cases something I'd like to take in account I saw in passing that despite the fact Freakshow!Caine has been stared to be a powerhouse he values brain over brawn and Pomni an antivirus system has been described earlier if it cannot easily quarantine a virus it will trying to eradicate it with brute force this is One thing I have collected and am fascinated to see play out because this has been implied to be a brain vs brawn except the brain has godmode on and the brawn is at the moment a living computer lie obviously there's complexities I myself am leaving out and they definitely aren't equals but their strengths are maxed in different areas and you Know they're gonna exploit each other's unique weaknesses to one another this battle would be Sick as hell to watch go down no matter who is truly going to be the winner and even if it's revealed one of them never actually stood a chance I'd still put my money the other is going to knock the other down in a way it'd Never be easy to recover from physically or mentally though I doubt Caine would ever admit fear and Pomni... as nonsentient I'm so curious how that'd even take a toll on her other than the virus physically lingering in her constantly her antivirus always beating it down but it one step ahead like a nasty sickness she can't cure herself it's all just fascinating

YEP!!!!

YALL THATS WHAT MAKES IT F U N .. THEY'RE BOTH STRONG... LISTEN TO YOURSELF-

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team7-headquarter · 5 months

Text

Team 7 introductions are like:

Naruto: I want to obtain POWER so I can force people to look at me like an actual human being and not a monster, haha! They won't ignore me or isolate me anymore! They're gonna BEG ME and put their lives on my hands and— Oh and ramen. All the ramen. And maybe prove to everyone that they are dumb ass fuck for not believing in me? Yeah, prove them wrong, that's cool! And and and Iruka-sensei is cool! I'm so happy when someone does the bare minimum and respects my life and acknowledges the fact that I'm just a kid and that I'm suffering (one of) the craziest discrimination acts applied by our government Hokage...

Sakura: you know how the first real goal I got like the first thing I wanted for myself after years of being bullied and being nobody and wanting to disappear was the affection of this boy? Well, all these other girls think I don't stand a chance and that they'll get the boy, so I'm gonna win the boy and laugh at their faces. Does it mean that I need validation and affection and attention and love? Not, what are you saying, I have a perfect normal life and parents that are totally involved in my life and I am happy! So happy! I wouldn't know what sadness or loneliness is like! Never! I'm normal and totally nothing to worry about!

Sasuke: you'll find that the things you like in life are meaningless when you carry the trauma of being the sole survivor of a genocide committed by the brother you loved and adored. I want him dead which shouldn't be surprising given that we live in a society ruled by violence, right? I hate a lot of things because I'm painfully aware of how miserable our reality is. Since this is my trauma, no one else has the right to do something about it. They certainly didn't seemto have the balls to go after him, even when they call him criminal, so I'm gonna kill Itachi myself. Obsessed you said? Try enjoying life when you know someone can commit genocide and no one would give a fuck and the government won't do a thing. Try caring for others knowing they can get kill any day and you'll have to look the other way. I dare you to.

Kakashi: *most emotionally neglected adult in the village, abandoned as a kid, saw his father do the right thing and get so socially pressured he ended up commiting suicide and the government didn't give a shit, forced to become a perfect weapon at young age to show off the village strength, forced to become an elite assassin as a kid, people in the village widely making fun of his trauma and acting like he's just weird / peculiar and not on the verge of losing his mind for real, a champ at dissociation and a minute more away taking roots in front of the graves of his mistakes because he spent way too much time there in self-punishment, basically the most miserable jounin in the whole village*

Kakashi: hm, I won't let you get to know me or get close to me because everything I touch dies and I don't want to get attachments because you're soldiers and you might die and it doesn't matter that I have history with two of your families and that you all remind every single minute of the boy I watched die and the girl that I killed and the boy used to be. You will never know any of that. I am a whole man with a whole life that you'll never know because I am just your superior here and you must obey me in our missions. I'm definitely not hiding the fact that the village just failed me and set me up to be the one who failed you all in case you get killed or lose your shit once and for all.

#naruto #team 7 #og team 7 #team kakashi #kakashi hatake #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #naruto classic #og naruto

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storiesbysoup · 1 year

Text

Weighted Blanket.

lieutenant simon "ghost" riley x reader. 1743 word count. extra: for the millionth time, i am so so so sorry that part 2 is taking so long!! but!!! i've got my motivation back to write, case in point this little guy, so i'm gonna start working on part 2 again! also, for those of you who have put in requests, i will be getting to those! sorry for the wait! <;3 MASTERLIST.

SYNOPSIS: Simon returns home after a night out with the guys to find you, overwhelmed and frankly almost done wit everything. He holds you.

Simon never truly anticipated being out as late as he had been the last few weeks until tonight. He'd thought that staying out until ten, maybe eleven, would not carry as much strain on you as it did but he was sorely mistaken. You were stressed but far more than what he initially had guessed.

He had gone out with the other members of the Task Force, watching as Soap got nearly black-out drunk and Price managed to embarrass Gaz more than needed after a single comment. These nights were ones he enjoyed, filled with cheers and Soap trying to play wing-man for the other members. When he tried for Simon, the poor Scot nearly had his tongue ripped out at the mere thought.

The high tolerance his body had to alcohol was something he really appreciated. He never drank much when he was coming home to you, with your aversion to alcohol as a whole being one thing that you had heavily expressed. He respected you far too much to deny you the smallest requests; he loved you far too much.

Now, at a strong 2 o’clock in the morning, he tried to sneak himself into your shared little apartment with little success. You were sat at the kitchen table, head propped up on an arm as tears strung themselves from your cheeks. You were in college, taking much harder classes than you needed to because of your counselor and their ridiculous choices for what you needed to take within a single semester. Shoulders heavy with both stress and exhaustion, you barely registered the fact he had walked into the apartment.

Oh, he hated this. He hated seeing you overwhelmed like this. Hardened brown eyes softened as your tears fell down against the marble counter, forming little puddles underneath your quivering lip. You wiped at your face, cleaning it off before continuing the work at hand. It was something Simon never really understood, formula after formula of things that he would never even try to comprehend.

Thankful that he didn’t reek of alcohol, Simon stepped closer to you ever so slowly until his hand made contact with your back. The feeling of your clothed skin jolting alarmed him in the worst way possible but he ignored it for a moment, letting his thumb rub circles around the muscles that had tensed within your back. Sympathy was the only thing he felt: he remembered when he began the military, all the studying they had him do to learn simple things. It was preposterous, but needed.

Your exhausted eyes dragged themselves from the homework at hand to Simon himself, watching him as he stared down at you with his silly black balaclava. A soft laugh escaped you at the sight. No matter what, when he was in public he would hide his face with some kind of face covering: that being a balaclava or a simple mask. As long as his identity was hidden to the world. He let your fingers trail up against the silk-like textures as you hooked one finger underneath the mask.

One finger turned into two, then three and four until your hands themselves were tugging it up and above his lips. Eyes meeting in the middle, yours asking the simplest of questions and his responding with an answer before you continued. The scruff of his unshaven beard scratched at your hands as you cupped his cheeks with your palms, allowing your tired gaze to pin it to memory before continuing to drag it off. One by one his features were revealed to your gaze.

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen Simons face – far from it, actually – but it was the first time you’d gotten to take the mask off. You believed he was scared of what you’d say, of what you’d do if he let you. That’s why you were so gentle with him, taking your time to let him be comfortable with the new concept of you taking his mask off. His breath was shaky but he refused to move: you were the one who needed him, not the other way around.

When the mask came off, you nearly cried. It’d been so long since you’d last gotten to view your lovers face that you’d nearly forgotten, though it was heavily exaggerated as his face was the most beautiful drawing in all of history. He leaned in, knowing what you craved immediately and latching his lips to yours. Typically the ‘welcome home’ kiss he gave you was passionate and hungry, craving more and more of your plump lips but this one was different.

This kiss was soft, gentle: it was loving. He took his time when kissing you, a hand coming up to support the back of your neck as he sighed out. Simon pulled back shortly after, pressing his forehead against yours as his brown eyes bore into your own. You both were exhausted in your own regards, you with homework and Simon with his military work. He and the rest of the team were on leave as of right now, but you couldn’t help but sympathize with the man that stood in your hands.

“Baby… oh, my baby…”

The tears that had subsided were now re-emerging at the gentleness of his voice, your arms slipping down to wrap around his neck. You pulled yourself into him, letting out a confused noise as he picked you up by the thighs and held you against his body. You underestimated just how strong he was due to his training, but appreciated it nonetheless as you sighed. The sniffled sounds of you trying to apologize for crying against his body were drowned out by him shushing you.

A silent walk comforted you as he carried you towards the dark bedroom that sat in the back of the apartment. You didn’t mind the darkness that comforted the back of the little home, especially with how bright the rest of the apartment had been throughout the day. Simon laid you down on your back, laughing softly at the whine you made in response due to the lack of his warmth. He turned back, taking off his outdoor clothes and changing quickly into a t-shirt and his boxers.

He laid beside you, motioning towards his chest. “Come here… lay your head on my chest, love.” It wasn’t an offer, more of a demand though you accepted it graciously. Your head slid against the warmth of his chest, allowing your ear to press against the rhythmic thumping of his heart. Simon slowed his breathing to a calmer one, hands pressed against the warmth of your back. He watched as your head rose and fell with his chest. “Wrap my arms around you like this…”

Simons arms were one of your favorite things about him in general. Strong, wide warms with more muscle than he could do with that held you so delicately. There were times that he would refer to you as ‘little pet’ or something of the sort, and you constantly questioned it. Why, of all pet-names, did he choose the embarrassing ones? It wasn’t until you had the chance to ask Price who filled you in.

Apparently, it was a slang word that was used throughout Britain for a partner. Price had said it was a playful term for someone you feel affection towards: someone you love. You felt loved by Simon no matter what he did, but felt your heart grow at least a size when you learned such a thing. He was such a softie on the inside…

“Are you okay, baby? Hey, just relax ‘n breathe for a bit, yea?”

His hand traced your hair, letting you intake his masculine everything as he holds you. It never failed to amaze you just how easily he could calm you down, even after a rough day. His lips graced the crown of your head, allowing you to feel him against your skin directly. Your eyes flicker upwards as you look at him, the soft smile on his face melting your heart.

“I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ve got you now, you’re okay; we’ll tackle this together. Nice ‘nd slow…”

One of his hands brushed against your cheekbone, brushing against the gentle skin as his wide brown eyes admired your face. He sighed out, the breath coming from his nose tickling your face and causing you to giggle. “God, you’re so beautiful… I am so fucking lucky to have you in my life.” This was more emotion than Simon had shown you in a majority of your relationship. You didn’t view it was odd, more so just as his way of expressing himself. Emotions were something Simon was still gaining traction with, and the progress he was making showed itself proudly.

“I love you.”

The both of you interrupted each other with the same words, both stopping before bursting into a fit of giggles as you held each other. His gentleness had warmed up your sour mood to the point where you felt ready to tackle your work once more. You knew Simon wouldn’t let you until you’ve relaxed for at least a few hours, but you were still proud of the small accomplishments you had made.

Simon pressed his lips to your forehead once again, rubbing his thumbs against your skin just as he had before. “I love you, pet.” That pet-name sent shivers down your spine as you kissed at his skin. You’d never get to see this treatment in front of others, as he kept this side of him more personal and to the two of you. Away from prying eyes, Simon was much more expressive than what others believed. He cracked jokes often and poked fun at you all throughout the day.

You sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, burying your face into the warm heat of his body. Every piece of him felt perfect when lined up against you, and you loved it more than anything else. He was like your own version of a weighted blanket, except he could talk and move instead of simply sitting there and being heavy. Truth be told, the two of you were like weighted blankets for each other: sometimes he would come home for a night or two and ask you to simply lay on him. The pressure you gave his body would relieve the pain and tenseness that clutched his shoulders and back.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare ii #call of duty: modern warfare 2 #cod #cod: mw2 #cod: mw2 ghost

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linddzz · 3 months

Text

Here an assortment of Facts About Morpheus in the Red Flags AU. Where I'm starting to lean more towards the version where they meet and are already into each other before the ""Fake Date"" Incident:

-Jessamy is the raven he took care of when he found her injured outside of his townhome. He now has a room with a window he often keeps open for her to fly into whenever she feels like it. I don't know how legal any of this is in London but tbh it doesn't matter because he also does not know what the laws are and doesn't care.

- His townhome is very dark maximalist in decor, which tends to surprise people at first. There are houseplants and little statues all over, and the walls are hidden behind millions of bookshelves. There is an art studio room and books scattered everywhere. Very recently, hypothetical visitors would notice a lot of child locks and child proofed areas that have a bit of a panicked "I bought every safety thing in the store bc I have no idea wtf I'm doing" energy to them.

- He has a therapist. Yes, the Morpheus that Hob meets is the upgraded version who is actually working on himself already. This is what the improved personal growth version of Morpheus is like.

Anyway, said therapist is Gilbert F. Greene. Because Morpheus going head to head with an unstoppable force of old timey adorable optimism who will also not take his shit is delightful. Dr. Greene insists on going by first names and Morpheus always makes "Gilbert" sound like a slur in retaliation. Some conversations I imagine include:

"Good morning Gilbert, you will never guess who had what you might call a """relapse into self destructive behaviors"""" last night."

"I am very sorry to hear that my dear boy. Let me say though, that I am so very proud of you for calling me! That is a phenomenal step for you and it's wonderful that you are being proactive in your recovery."

"Don't patronize me Gilbert. I will hang up."

(this ended up being super long so I'm just gonna spare y'all's dash. Warning for some lightly touched on mentions of drug use and self destructive behavior.)

- Him getting a therapist was part of the requirements for gaining visitation rights and then weekend custody once a month with Orpheus. The therapy is actually helping, and he's bitter about that.

- His given name is actually Dream, he goes by his middle name. All the Endless siblings have awful names. Desire goes by Adonai because who calls a fucking child Desire???

When Hob meets the rest of the family, Destiny goes "it's good to see you again, Dream" and Hob begins turning to Morpheus like "lmao who tf is named Dream" only to find Morpheus glaring daggers at his brother.

- The Endless parents are rarely around. Some of the siblings still live in the manor and they all use it for family dinners, but it's common for their parents to be off travelling for years at a time.

- Morpheus is an author and a painter who has a bajillion pen names to go with each genre he writes in, so it's hard to figure out exactly how much he's written. Even before becoming a father though, his face and full name is mostly associated with children's fantasy stories that he illustrates himself, and his Art vs Artist vibe is very Miyazaki.

Him and Calliope collaborated on a series of illustrated poetic translations of ancient epics. Their divorce was exactly as messy as one might imagine the divorce between two passionate artist types might be.

- His downward spiral of self destruction started before the divorce but oh boy did it nosedive during and after.

- When she got pregnant after divorce proceedings had started, there was a moment where they were both meeting with lawyers and one asked something along the lines of if this meant they would try for reconciliation and staying together. Calliope said "no" immediately.

It's not like Morpheus exactly thought they would get back together, but the speed and firmness of that hard "no" had his head screaming with white noise and some badly thought out self medication for months, which ended up being why Calliope got full custody and he is just now able to get more involved with the now two year old Orpheus.

- His rebound with Thessaly was also messy. She was just in it for a fun fling and he was... Morpheus. He found out he got dumped when she informed him she was already in the process of moving back to Greece, and Johanna said he needed to be banned from any more beautiful Greek expats from that day forth.

- No one can figure out what the deal is with him and Lucienne. The simple explanation is they're queerplatonic soul mates. Lucienne's wife Gault thinks they're a bit codependent (not an inaccurate assessment), but is more civil with him since the day she yelled at him to go get an actual therapist instead of constantly putting his shit on Lucienne, and he actually did. (It is unclear if this or Calliope demanding therapy for him to get visitation with Orpheus was his wake up call catalyst, but probably a bit of both.)

- Lucienne was originally a personal assistant. She now works as his editor since she seems to be the only person who can keep track of all the shit he's written. She is also the only person who can get away with critiquing his works in progress without sending him into a fit where he might burn all his manuscripts.

- When Morpheus started mentioning this Gadling guy a lot, Lucienne paid a visit to the pub. Not to do anything so crude as to threaten a man's life if he breaks her sensitive friend's heart. What could she do anyway? No no. She's just here to smile with zero trace of humor and ask some questions while looking him up and down through her spectacles. Hob will later describe this as one of the most pants shitting moments of his life, and he felt like he got transformed back into a primary school kid who talked slightly too loudly in the library.

- Morpheus went through a slutty phase during and shortly after University that was less of a healthy and fun exploration of his sexuality and libido, and a bit more "I will take anyone who will have me in any way they will want me and I know that if nothing else, I'm pretty."

- Him and Johanna used to have a game seeing who could get more free drinks in one night. This had to be put to an end when it turned into the catalyst for at least three screaming fights between them.

Fight subjects were

Quality vs Quantity. Morpheus insists his ability to get people to buy him a single glass of wine that costs £50 beats Johanna's cheap beers. Johanna disagreed. loudly.

Is it cheating when Morpheus ran to the bathroom to smudge on some eyeliner and then stole Johanna's lip gloss? Is it further cheating when Johanna realized that his main method of getting drinks was "act like Adonai"? Accusations that he would ever act like his horrid annoying younger sibling sent Morpheus into an absolute tantrum.

Competitiveness DID overcome sibling rivalry enough for Morpheus to go to Adonai for makeover assistance. This backfired because it made Morpheus hot to the point of intimidating, and Johanna won that night.

- After Hob starts flirting with him, Morpheus goes suspiciously into a Romantic, Pre-Raphaelite inspired art era featuring lots of noble knights with dark sunlit hair. A lot of them seem to be lured in by dark haired fae entities all La Belle Sans Merci style. It's disgustingly obvious.

-Therapy has made him juuuuust self aware enough to know that he MAYBE tends to go a bit hard and fast with romance. This makes him a little more cautious with Hob than he usually would be, and he's doing a bit of "Hob is so nice and sweet and interested but I'm gonna mess it up :(((" pining. Everyone around him is fucking sick of it. He is not self aware enough to realize he's still going super hard and fast, but this time he's doing it while sighing sadly and drawing Hob in his sketchbook all the fucking time.

#red flags au #human au #Dreamling #gonna make my pinned masterpost to organize shit later today djdjdksk

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strniohoeee · 6 months

Text

Racketeer Pt. 3

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hates Chris hoodrat lifestyle, but when something goes wrong she’s ready to protect her man👥 Okay this is part 3 of a series I just made for shits and giggles for my best friend, but the fact that so many people like it is shocking and also amazing!!! Love this for us, I’m a hoe for hoodrat Chris even though I’m a Matt girl🧎🏽‍♀️

Warnings⚠️: uhh d*ath threats, Chris with a pewpew, pistol whipping, and uhhh I think that’s all…hope you enjoy 🖤

Song for the imagine: 308-22Gz (this is pure hoodrat NY trap music I LOVE IT)

When we spin through, it’s a D-O-A

We caught a opp at like 3:08

Fuck it and fuck up a B-O-A

Flashback

“Chris I’m not fucking holding your gun, so I’m definitely not fucking shooting it” I told Chris as he had his pistol on the kitchen table

“Baby why not? We literally got targets on our back because of who I am. I want my lady to be able to handle her own if I’m not there” he said in a matter of fact way

“Yeah a target on our back because of the life YOU chose to run with….plus I will always have you, so no” I said drinking my water

“What if I’m in a headlock, the pistols on the ground, and any one of his goons could come and pop me, and then pop you” he said raising his eyebrows

“Well then the lord better be on our side cause I ain’t picking up your gun” I said shrugging my shoulders

He picks up his gun and points it at me

“CHRISTOPHER HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND” I said flinching

“BANG BANG BANG, you’re dead” and then he turns the gun on himself “BANG BANG BANG, I’m dead” he said laughing

“Put the fucking gun down now” I said getting upset with him

“Baby the clips empty, and I took the bullet out” he said showing me the gun

“Give me the fucking gun, and show me how to use it” I said getting annoyed

“YES IM TEACHING MY BABYYY, I’m gonna have my own personal shooter” he said getting excited

Flashback over

Tonight Chris’s friends were having a party after one of the guys got released from prison. They rented out a whole club for this kid

“I don’t want to go” I said to Chris dragging my feet

“Come on, why not it’s a nice area. The club is only open for us, and you know ima protect you” he said getting dressed

I was already ready, but I just didn’t want to go anymore. I felt like this was our whole life…. parties, fast cars and thugs….but I digress

“Fine I’ll fucking go” I said getting my outfit picked out. It was cold in Boston, so I decided on a long sleeve fitted black shirt, medium wash baggy boyfriend jeans, and my black Air Force 1s (shawty on demon time). I flat ironed my hair, and put on my black north face puffer jacket

“The black air forces?? Whose head are you stompin on tonight?” Chris asked laughing

“Anybody who fucks with you” I said putting my perfume on

“Blue jeans or black” he asked me

“Black” I said back

Chris came out in an all black shirt, with black jeans, his timberland boots on, and his black puffer coat

“Alright baby Boston Red Sox black and white hat, or Yankees” he asked

“Boston….HELLOOO” I said laughing at him

“Duhhh how could I be so stupid” he said making a dumb face

We had driven to the location of the club, and it was indeed a nice area, but it was known for gangs so there were some dodgy people out.

“Don’t leave my side at all” Chris said helping me out the passenger side, and shutting the door behind me

“Never baby” I said, and he locked the car

We walked to the club, and immediately I recognized everybody there. I even seen some of my girl friends who were either dating or messing around with one of these guys

The whole night we had such a blast, laughing, talking, drinking and dancing. Although these people had some crazy shit under their belt, they were actually super nice and respectful people.

“Yoo there’s some kids out there, talking about Drew’s gang or whatever” one of Chris friends came up and said to all of us

“That little fucking kid with the tattoos on his face?” Chris asked

“Yeah, he’s getting mad staticy outside, and wallin out. The security guards about to lay his ass out” he said

“Tell that fucking kid that I’m going to be dealing with his soon” Chris said taking a sip of his drink

“Ai, he’s alone so he ain’t gonna try some shit” he said to Chris

“Even if he does…I’m strapped tonight” Chri said lifting his shirt up exposing the pistol in his waistband

His friend nodded at him, and went to head back out to relay the message to the other guy.

“Baby….for once not tonight” I said looking at Chris

“I’m not gonna do anything, but if people start talking crazy” he said raising his hands up

“No Chris! You have to stop this” I told him taking a sip of my drink

“What?? I’ll bust him in his medulla….nobody will fuck wit me after that” Chris said laughing

I just shook my head and laughed at him

At this point it was about 2AM, and we all started to head out. We walked outside, and Chris was saying bye to the security guard and some of his friends

I was waiting for Chris to finish chatting with his security guard, when I saw someone in the corner of my eye. For once can someone not try Chris and I

“Yoo this your man?” The kid said coming up to me and pointing at Chris

I just ignored him, me being from New York…you never ever turn your head when someone’s coming up from behind you to ask you, or tell you something. That’s a death wish.

“You deaf ma?” I heard him say again

“Yo get the fuck outta here” I heard Chris say from behind me

“Yo get the fuck outta here Chris, Drew’s people got something for your ass, and it’s gonna start with your lady here” he said nodding his head at me

“Did you just threaten my woman” I heard Chris say, and he started to walk towards him, so I turned around to watch this glancing at the security guard to keep an eye out

“Don’t shoot the messenger…..you keep fucking wit our guys…they gonna come for you” he said

“I’ll shoot you, and the motherfucka who sent you” Chris said getting closer to the guy

“Babe stop” I said trying to keep Chris calm

“Yeah listen to your lady…wouldn’t want her with a hole between her eyes now would we?” He asked smuggly

All of a sudden I just see Chris swing at the guy, his right fist connecting with his cheek

“DONT YOU EVER FUCKING SAY SOME SHIT ABOUT KILLING MY GIRL. ILL FUCKING KILL YOUR WHOLE LIFELINE BITCH” Chris screamed at him and they started to throw punches

“CHRIS PLEASE STOP, THIS HAS TO FUCKING STOP PLEASE” I said begging, but not wanting to get in between them because I was not about to get cracked in the jaw

I'm not sure what happened but they started to struggle with each other, and were just scuffling. I had a feeling the guy felt Chris’s gun, and was trying to grab it

“FUCK YOU” Chris started to scream and started throwing punches at the guys ribs, as he had Chris in a headlock

All of a sudden his pistol fell out, and at the same time the guy got Chris on his back on the ground, and they were throwing punches.

The pistol slid pretty far, and I was contemplating on if I wanted to pick it up or not…..Fuck it…this is my man, and I will fucking do anything to protect him

I picked up the pistol, and cocked it back

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY MAN, OR I WILL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF” I yelled at the guy, both of them turning to look at me

“You’re a little bitch, you ain’t pulling no fucking trigger fuck outta here” he said still struggling with Chris

I don’t know what came over me, but I moved the gun from pointed at his head to pointed just behind it, and then I pulled the trigger

The bullet flew right past his head, and it was so fucking loud, everybody froze including me

“THE FUCK” the guy yelled, and while he was looking at me Chris used this to punch him on the jaw knocking him backwards

Chris got up, and came over to me, and grabbed the pistol out of my hands

He walked over to the guy, standing over him and grabbed him by his shirt

All of a sudden Chris pistol whipped the guy, and I gasped covering my mouth

“If you ever come around me and my people, and my FUCKING woman again talking out your neck I’m going to come for your whole fucking blood line, got it” he said as he held the pistol under the kids chin

“Yeah yeah” the guy said out of it

“NO FUCKING YEAH YEAH, YOU GET IT OR YOU DONT WE WOULDNT WANT TO SEND YOU BACK TO DREW WHTH A BULLET BETWEEN YOUR BROWS NOW WOULD WE” Chris said laying the gun in between the guys brows

“No no….I promise you’re all good. I’ll never fucking look at yall ever again” he said in fear

“Yeah you better not, and if we ever cross paths again…you better cross to the other side of the street. Cause you just earned a target on your back, and when I’m ready to pop you and your people I'm coming for yous ….cause all my opps is targets, see the red dot no target got it bitch” he said throwing the guy down onto the ground

Chris looked at his security and nodded for him to get rid of the kid, and keep everything on hush. He tucked the pistol into his waistband and grabbed my hand

“Lets go ma” he said walking with me

We got into the car, and I was still so shocked by everything

“Look at you….almost boomed the kids face off for me” he said smirking

“I don’t know what took over me, but I knew I wanted to hurt him to protect you” I said to Chris

“That’s exactly how I feel everytime someone fucks with you” he said leaning in and kissing me

“You’re not going to go after him right?” I asked

“No, but it creates enough fear in his heart that he won’t even fuck with us ever again” he said putting the car in drive, and grabbing my hand to interlock it

“Chris we have to stop this lifestyle” I told him

“And we will baby, I promise you” he said kissing my hand as he drove off

The End

Alright this was part 3, and I may or may not write a part 4 depending on the feedback, but this one was my favorite one to write 💋💋

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo #Spotify

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twosoulss77 · 1 month

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I don't know who needs to hear this, but you are allowed to have a favourite ship, canon or not, out of a particular show.

Shipping is just a way for artist and what not to explore different dynamics, or even their own. That’s why I believe we should let people enjoy what they like, without forcing our own image of a certain spectrum into them. Especially cause shaming those people, for trying to explore their identity through art, might cause actual harm to them or cause them to not enjoy doing what they like anymore, bc of hateful comments from someone who hides behind a fake identity to hate on a fictional ship, which in itself it’s a very sad and pathetic way to live, but just cause your life is miserable doesn’t mean you need to make others people’s life miserable you know. Go touch Grass when you feel like being a dick!!!

As an AroAce fellow with no desire for a sexual relationship, I applaud and adore all those people making content of my fav husbands, let it be a fics smut or just normal fluff, I love it all SO MUCH Hazbin Hotel ep 5 changed my whole chemistry, and Say what you will about radioapple / appleradio, but I will always be entertained by the idea of Lucifer angrily doing acts of kindness for Alastor because it's what ‘Charlie would want’, and Alastor being a stupid ‘Bambi’ and try to wiggle himself out of it at the beginning, but then realise that he actually doesn’t mind the king of hell company at all. Both slowly growing to actually tolerate and maybe even like being around the other. Exchanging snarky remarks in a more playful way, playing music together, telling dad jokes, hating on the same delusions glorified iPad …like there is so much potential there that it’s crazy how much it pisses people off. It might be cause I am a sucker for Enemies to Friends to Lovers, but by God if that isn’t the best trope.

I know there will be some smart people out there, that are gonna be like “Alastor is ace”, but so are half the people who ship him!!! I hate when people make assumption on us, on who and how we want to love. I might not be interested in participating in sexual stuff myself, but that doesn’t stop me to explore my own ace-spectrum with these two characters, who if they wanted to could and would kiss each other, Cause for one I says so, I have the power to make that happen *insert hysterical laugh* And second It was confirmed that Alastor is a repulsed Ace, but would also be down to date someone if they were strong asf, (Confirmed in a stream, take that with a grain of salt) which makes this ship even more possible than others.

Al being Aroace, doesn't mean he can't date or have sex, he's just not all that interested in it, but that could also derive from the fact that he hasn’t found the right person yet, so it doesn’t feel important to him yet. (fun fact aromantic wasn't the part of my struggle accepting that I was aroace it was actually accepting I was ace bc of my hyper sexual tendencies)

Also Alastor being aro just makes radioapple infinitely more funny to me, or any relationship with him for that matter. He is just this 7 feet tall demon with zero interest in romance, but always managing to find himself having beef with someone, possibly a guy, and act like he is either about to kiss or kill him XD

I really needed to get this off my chest and I absolutely mean every thing I said in here. Everyone has their own likes and dislikes, but you'll be surprised to see how much happier you will be when you stop focusing on what other people are doing and instead focus on what you like.

Thanks for listening 😊💜

#aromantic #asexual #radioapple #appleradio #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel alastor #ace in the hole #radiostatic #hazbin hotel #alastor altruist #lucifer morningstar

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devoureddreaa · 2 months

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diary of a mad black woman

i’m totally not projecting in this /hj. buuuuuut, i love love love the movie: diary of a mad black woman. probably the best piece of fiction tyler perry has created. but, i hope you enjooooy!!

cw: toji is an asshole (mb…), you’re gonna be kind of a bitch too if you squint, relationship issues, infidelity issues (on both sides), an established relationship coming to an end, you’re not getting back with him….. (sorry not sorry), uhh y/n is black woman coded (hii ting at the title). lemme know if i forgot anything !!!!

five long, draining years.

five years ago..you married toji right after you two graduated. don’t worry, your clan didn’t sell you. marrying toji is what you wanted to do. only god knew how bad of a decision you were

toji fushiguro, had his owns dreams and aspirations. ones that most possibly didn’t involve you whatsoever, but you forced yourself into them. the first year was just fine, it was like you were laying on cloud nine.

that was until you were pushed off that cloud.

he moved you away from your home. he wanted to “forget about the past” he said, and leave everything behind. and that included your own family..you didn’t know how long it had been since you last heard their voices. now you were isolated, and that only made things worse cause toji knew what sort of power he had over you now.

you did anything in your power to stay in his vision. whether that was dealing with his manipulative behavior, or even his infidelity..you sticked around.

cause you loved him??

or cause you didn’t have anyone else to go to?

weird, cause then you got kicked out of your own home and he got a divorce. he packed all your shit in a truck and replaced you for some hooker. bet enough booger sugar and lube got her to stay. you drove that truck back over to your grandmothers house…who almost shot you since it was the middle of the night. you got over it after a few months. got a job, made friends, reconnected with family..even your mother, and maybe even found some newfound love.

that’s until toji got injured and he was temporarily paralyzed. the hooker he wanted so badly wanted to leave him for dead, but you..were still legally his wife. so you made the last call.

to keep him alive.

as you sat there, thinking about picking up the pieces of what used to be your life..you realized something. every room in this place that you used to call home held a painful memory for you. even though toji’s suffering…something in you wants him to suffer even more. few months in a divorce can take a person through just as many emotions as five years in a marriage. oh, and you’re starting to feel all of them at once.

but the one that is clear…is rage.

now here you were, in your old home, in the office looking for old bill files for him. while he sat in his wheelchair…quietly.

shuffling through the stake of papers, you started to shake your head. “i don’t see it..”

toji’s head perked up, “you don’t see it?” he repeated, in somewhat of a mocking tone..

“no.”

he scoffed, “you really are good for nothing.” here he goes again. “find my bank statement and get the accountant on the phone.”

you looked up from the stack of papers and looked up at him. into those dead cold eyes, those eyes that used to give you so much love..but now…they just give you a whole lotta hurt.

“then call somebody, anybody and you can leave.” toji motioned down to the wheelchair he was sitting it. “this, is not gonna beat me.”

“oh really?” you’re tone was cold, ice cold. you were watching a grown man, that was fully capable of finding his own bank statements, throw a fit cause you couldn’t find it.

his legs were paralyzed, not his fucking arms.

“yea, and whatchu staring at?”

“you get stabbed in the spine, and you’re still the same.”

“i am who i am, and im gonna die that way. toots.” toji gave you a dirty, damn near disgusting look as he looked you up and down. “i don’t even know why you’re here, i’m not givin’ you shit. matter fact, where are my kids?”

“you done, toji?”

“yknow what bitch, just get out.”

you could feel your jaw clenched up when he said that.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, “i ask you to do one simple thing, and you can even do that after five— get out!”

you dropped the papers that were in your hands, you got up from the rather comfortable leather seat. grabbed your things from off the desk and proceeded to take your exit back home quietly.

but then you stopped.

who the hell is he? the man who hasn’t dont anything but hurt you. and now…you were about to let him keep doing exactly that? keep letting him control you like some toy. nah…that ain’t gon slide. before you could even think about it, your arm swung forward then swung back..the back of your hand connecting with toji’s face.

you turned yourself back around and leaned down to face him, placing your hands on the arm rest of the wheelchair..practically caging him in.

“let me explain something to you.” your tone of voice was sick, nasty. it was damn near like you were spitting pure vemon. “old y/n..is gone. and you will not talk to me like that.”

“now i came here..to help you. but now, i’m here to get even.”

“y/n, you—”

“shut up!” your yell echoed through the quiet home, the rain outside just barely being able to heard over it.

“you want your whore..” you walked over and grabbed the picture of toji and his little hooker..that was framed in a pretty little frame. “and your damn kids?”

you raised your arms up and threw the picture onto the ground, shattering the frame. “do you see what you left me for?!” you bend down and quickly picked up the picture, shoving it in toji’s face.

“this..is what you left me for!”

you started to rip the picture to shreds right in front of him, letting the loose parts fall to the floor. “she didn’t give a damn ‘bout you toji, she told them to let you die.!”

you walked back over by the desk, using your arms to sweep the top of it clean..everything falling on the floor, some of it even breaking.

“and yknow what’s funny? hm?” a condescending smile grew on your face. “i fucking gave you life boy, even though you took it from me.”

you’ve never seen toji so quiet and still before for how long you’ve known, but oh, that didn’t mean you were about to let up. you grabbed a play bat that was sitting on the floor..

“ya kids..your boys.” you swung the plastic bat and hit toji in the head. “i wanted children toji! and had you not been a public sex-stop, we would have them!”

you backed away and anger started to consume you. it showed in your face, your body movement, even in the way your heart was racing. you didn’t know if this felt good or not..

“got me all stressed out, my hair fallin’ out, my weight up ‘n down, can’t keep anything down! two miscarriages! you took life from me, and you never even said ‘i’m sorry’..”

was that it? the end of your rant.

hell nah, you walked out of that office. and you let toji sit there alone for a few days. when you can back it smelt rancid.

“god..” you groaned and covered your nose. walking up behind him. “ya smell like shit.”

you grabbed the handle bars and started to walk, then you started to run towards the bathroom.

“y/n. hell are doing?” toji asked, a bit afraid (that’s a new one.)

you ignored his concerns, barging through the bathroom doors to reveal a tub filled with water and a little bit of bubbles.

“y/n, stop—!”

the wheelchair hit the edge and toji was flipped over into the water. you pushed the wheelchair back and watched him, in silence for a bit.

“bathe him, feed him, clothe him..they say.” you say on the edge of the bathtub just watching him. “what bout me, huh? and jesus, stop lookin’ like an idiot.”

you begin to light a cigarette while toji just laid in the slightly cold water. “you try and..kick me out of our house, and keep me away from our money? hell nah. fuck nah, at that.”

you looked back over to see that toji’s head was started to submerge under the water. you quickly got up, dropped your cigarette in the water, and practically dragged toji back up to the surface.

“remember toji, i was there..when all you had was me.”

you stepped out of the tub and left him there.

later, you both sat at the oddly long dinner table. you on one side, and toji on the other. weird thing was you had a plate with a salad on it, and toji? he didn’t have a thing in front of him.

meanwhile, you were eating like it was the best salad you had ever had.

suddenly, toji had..started to cry? “y/n..”

your eyes perked up, “awe, you hungry?”

maybe he was. but who fucking cared? “hm..maybe you should go into the kitchen and get yourself something to eat then hm?” the smile on your face was brutal

“christina..” toji quietly cried out.

you looked over your shoulder, confused. “christina?!” you looked back over at the pitiful man in front of you..trying to hold back to boiling laughter. “christina’s gone…”

you smiled wildly, “your little tramp didn’t have any money to her so she left.” looking back down at your plate using your fork to pick up for more food. “just like your slut.”

“she packed all her shit, and some of yours toji fushiguro..and went on her merry way.” you started to laugh. “come to think of it..she cleaned out your bank account. all of it!”

“oh, sweetheart, you tried to keep from me? and she ended up taking it all..huh?!” you started to laugh even harder, throwing your head back and slamming your fist on to the table.

this was even better then therapy.

“toji..you are like soooo many men.” you paused to get a good look at him. “you’d rather lay with dogs then make it work with a women.”

“you’re a bitch ass, toji..a coward.”

you forcefully pushed your plate of food, sending it flying across the table towards toji. it ended up landing on his lap and some fell onto the floor. but you sure as hell weren’t gonna pick it up, you got up and went upstairs to go to sleep.

toji ended up getting better, and you let all your anger out on him..later forgiving him. you took that divorce as a blessing, the thing you used to see as curse. he still loved you, but you didn’t love him the same. you didn’t want to be back with him. pain can hurt someone, but it won’t change anybody; and toji is a perfect example of that.

but you? oh you knew better. and anyone that would cross you in the future would learn that.

signed,

a mad black woman.

did it well…and did it good. PLSASE WATXH HIS MOVIE, I LOVE IT!!! anywho coming with the content..smash that like button for more bangers!!! /lhj but, hope you enjoyed!! love you baaaaaaai (if you saw any typos..not you didn’t)

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